As the Hogwarts grounds started to look like a mosaic of red, orange, and yellow, gossip about the Ilvermorny twins slowed to a low rumble. People still looked, and students still whispered. Even in Hogsmeade, they'd catch the occasional elder witch or wizard giving them quizzical glances.
Io was busier than ever, easily roaming the halls in her cat Animagus form. After her midnight talk with Draco, he reluctantly became his odd-brand of friendly. It wasn't actually friendly - he managed to muster a weak head nod whenever Io walked by, and he almost always ignored Aster all together. Not that Aster minded. Pale, sickly, and sad wasn't her type - friend, lover, or otherwise.
Slug Club invites were slowly making their way into each dorm. Blaise and the Carrow twins received their invitations in green envelopes sent directly to the dungeons, but Aster and Io's came via Slughorn himself. He caught up with them just as they tried to sit down for dinner, much to their dismay. It was roast night, and Slughorn seemed to be incapable of small talk. Knowing Harry was sure to be there, Io decided to entertain the idea of going, but after realizing he scheduled his Quidditch practices conveniently on the same night, her attendance quickly dwindled down.
Aster, on the other hand, looked forward to it. Sure, it meant eating a little later than everyone else, but Slughorn always had good food brought over from the kitchen, things that the other students didn't get to try. One night it was a beautiful Toulouse-style cassoulet, a French dish that reminded her of Uncle Altair because it was his favorite dinner to make especially after exams.
The food was the bulk of the excitement. Slughorn used these dinner parties to pick the brains of students who were either very connected or very talented.
"Ms. Visage, how regrettable your sister is unable to attend. I very much would've liked to ask both of you about your Uncle's work. His book on the different uses of the Stinging Hex was absolutely fascinating." He would droll on. "If he makes the time to visit, please send me an owl, so we can share a fire whiskey at the Three Broomsticks."
Aster didn't mind boasting about her uncle's conquests. He really made a name for himself, and was quite well-liked among the students. During their first year, many of the teachers debated on being kind to them just because of him, but he made sure to put the word out not to play favorites. Not that it really mattered - Io was always quiet and intimidating (as others put it), and Aster made a web of friends within Wampus house.
They hadn't been aware they'd become the human embodiments of Yin and Yang - Io being the darker force to fear. She was poetic but soft and romantic. The softness of her stature balanced out the icy glare of her gray eyes. Aster was the light, playful and social. She didn't have time to read romance novels, but instead spent her days tracking constellations and her nights shooting off fireworks in the common room. Unlike Io's gray, Aster's eyes were a honey shade of hazel. She smiled more, laughed more, and she made an effort to play more. She flirted with anyone who was worth her time, but scarcely gave her entire self to anyone.
That being said, it made Slughorn's parties easier to bear. She played the part, happily retold stories of Uncle Altair's discoveries with a smile, and let the Potions Master greedily take it all in.
Of course, there was a side perk.
On one side, just to her right, sat Blaise Zabini. Aster never thought anything more of him than a fellow Slytherin and one of Draco's friends. But as their DADA duels became more frequent, Aster became comfortable with him. He didn't really show emotion often, but he was always willing to help around the common room. Aster witnessed him directing a handful of first years towards the Quidditch pitch, even wishing them luck before try-outs. Whether she liked it or not, she considered him… maybe a friend. There were even moments when he'd lend her a handkerchief because of a spilled drop of ice cream.
Then again - directly across from her was Hermione Granger, separated from her friends. Aster learned during these parties together that her parents were dentists - something that the other attendees were unaware of, but back in America, it wasn't that unusual. She learned that Hermione received Outstandings in all but one of her classes, and that she hated flying.
But mostly, Aster was able to count the freckles that fluttered across Hermione's cheeks even in the dim light. It was so hard not to stare. Every now and then, she'd cast over a small smile, intently listening just like Professor Slughorn.
And yet - Cormac McLaggen was also in attendance, and his presence left a bitter taste in Aster's mouth. While some auras were sweet, Cormac's tasted like sour candy with no sugar center. She cringed, watching him lick caramel off the tip of his finger with the greasiest smile she'd ever seen. He was doing the most to catch Hermione's eye, and every time he did, she looked back down at her dish like she didn't notice.
"Eyes up, McLaggen." Blaise suddenly spoke in a firm tone. He wasn't even looking up at who he was addressing; he just pushed around the remnants of his dessert with a gold spoon as if he'd said nothing at all before slowly meeting Cormac's eyes.
Cormac was red in the face with a beautiful mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He'd been caught red handed looking at Hermione slightly below the chin.
Aster nudged Blaise's leg under the table, hiding a chuckle in her sleeve disguised as her wiping something off her lips. Holding out her fist, he met her half way, the universal nonverbal way of saying "Good job. If you didn't, I would've." She definitely toyed with calling Blaise a friend.
Despite the effort to rescue her, Hermione still looked nervous and self-conscious, pulling her sweater loose against her chest. Her eyes met Aster's with a wince.
"Excuse me, sir." Aster calmly dispersed the tension by standing up. "Ms. Granger and I have a very rigorous Herbology exam tomorrow morning. Sopophorous beans and Dittany - I'm sure you understand." She shot a feigned apologetic look at Blaise who was equally surprised at her sudden departure.
"But of course!" Professor Slughorn bowed his head. "Do well, do well, and wait for my owl in regards to my Christmas gathering."
Hermione couldn't get up faster, hurrying after Aster straight out of Slughorn's office.
Aster walked just a few paces ahead. "You're welcome."
The Gryffindor caught up to her. "Right. Thanks. He's just awful really."
"You mean tall, blonde, and greasy isn't your type?" Aster teased.
Hermione gave her a small push to the arm, joining with a hearty laugh. "God no. Definitely not that."
The two girls continued slowly through the now empty halls of the castle. It was just past ten o'clock, but the fires were still ablaze. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Aster could feel Hermione at her side, now at ease like the entire situation was nothing but an inside joke.
Aster let the burning question rise up in her throat. "So - what is your type? Potter? I see you two together all the time." She knew the answer she wanted, but did her best not to expect it.
"Harry is my best friend." Hermione sighed calmly. "It's complicated. I'm not.. I'm not sure if I like this person or not."
The blonde felt her chest get warm, debating whether or not to press further.
"He's had this niffler of a girl trying to get his attention for the past few weeks. If his attention was something shiny to steal, I mean."
There it is - she does like someone. That's the tone of jealousy. The flush on the cheeks, the tinge of bitterness in her tone, the crude albeit accurate comparison to a little furry creature. Truly unmistakable.
"Is she cute?" Aster stopped her steps as they reached the end of the corridor. From here, Hermione would turn right, and Aster would turn left. "Objectively, of course."
"Objectively -" Hermione looked as if she really had to think hard without clouding her judgment. "I guess."
"The answer is always 'no', Hermione." She smiled softly, placing her hand on the other's arm with a small stroke of her thumb. "If he's smart - and I mean if because boys will be boys, as they say - he'll shake her off and run to you. Don't give it a second thought if he's okay playing with her attention when you've already given him yours."
Hermione couldn't muster any response. She only started feeling this way sometime over the summer. Maybe it was the growth spurt, maybe it was the deeper tone in his voice, but Ron Weasley was starting to look different to her. She'd almost regretted confunding Cormac at Quidditch try-outs, and now that small utterance was hitting the back of her head with regret.
Aster pulled her arm back with a defeated sigh. "Well. I'll see you in Herbology tomorrow for that exam. For a moment, I forgot that wasn't so much of an excuse as it was an actual reason." She raised her arm weakly to waive goodbye, but Hermione lunged towards her, wrapping her arms around Aster's neck.
With silent hesitation, Aster returned the hug, her hands meeting the back of a worn, brown jumper. Hermione's hair smelled like the last remnants of her vanilla rose shampoo, and her waist was tinier than one could assume under the robes she normally wore.
"Thank you - and Blaise - for keeping McLaggen at bay." She slowly pulled back. "Harry and Ron are wonderful friends, but they aren't the best at saving me in those situations. Sometimes, they find it funny, I believe."
Aster held her breath, unsure of how to proceed after this small moment of intimacy. Aside from the occasional meeting of the hands while handing things to each other in Herbology, this is the closest they'd ever been.
"Yeah," she cleared her throat. "Of course. Always here to look out for a..."
Hermione smiled. "- for a friend. I mean, I hope we are friends."
Aster felt her heart twitch just a bit. It'd only been a month or so; it wasn't like she was in love. This was a simple crush, as simple as it could be. Crushes are not love because a crush is love without knowledge of who someone really is. The love of an idea.
After another quick goodbye, she turned herself towards the Slytherin common room and didn't dare to look back - just in case Hermione did first. Whoever looks back first loses.
The journey back to the dungeons was quiet.
She didn't want to think that she was suffering in silence, but that stupid word - friend. Then again, she was about to say it first, she's willing to accept that was her mistake.
Aster was almost down the staircase when she could hear two people talking in hushed tones outside the Slytherin common room door. Out of instinct, she halted her steps, hiding behind the low rippling sounds of the nearby fountain.
Blaise stood just feet away with his hands tucked in his pockets. He was shaking his head, words still out of earshot but the tone of frustration was unmistakable. Across from him was a very gaunt looking Draco Malfoy, speaking in a very similar manner, but his hand was brought up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. This conversation must have been important, or at least not for undeserving ears.
Standing up slowly, Aster continued down. Draco's eyes met hers first, putting a stop to their conversation. All she could catch were phrases: "I won't," "too close," "not her."
Blaise looked over his shoulder. His reaction to seeing Aster was delayed, quickly switching from exasperation to relief. "Aster. Thought you'd be in the dorm by now."
She ran her fingers through her hair. "I took a detour. Ended up being further than I thought."
Draco's scowl returned to the gray on his cheeks. "Blaise. Aster." He brushed past them with the slight clunk from his shoes filling the silence as he sauntered up the stairs.
It took a moment, but Aster opened and closed her mouth, figuring out how to phrase it. "Did… Did he just call me by my first name?"
Blaise let out half a chuckle. "You caught that too, huh? Thought I was one of the few he did that for, but only because Zabini must have one too many syllables."
"But I - I mean, we - he -"
"Io told him to."
"Io told him to? What does that mean?"
"She told him if he kept calling her Visage, she'd never know who he was addressing. He must've taken it to heart."
That little snake! Aster held back her grimace. She couldn't believe her sister would hide a detail like that. She knew that they'd spoken late that one night, but the details were so sparse. Io chalked it up to "a lot of little bits of nothing." That was not nothing. Not for Draco Malfoy.
"After you," Blaise held out his arm, letting Aster enter the common room ahead of him before starting again. "I swear, Slughorn's parties get more and more interesting."
"If you're referring to McLaggen trying to hide his boner, then I'm inclined to agree with you."
This was the first time she'd seen him laugh. And it was a real laugh.
"Glad you're there to suffer with me." Blaise said almost a little too casually. "I'd rather be there than in the Great Hall, listening to Pansy complain about how tedious it is to brew a love potion."
Ignoring the comment about Pansy, Aster grinned. "Happy to suffer. It's my favorite form of entertainment, suffering with friends."
The tall, handsome Slytherin gave a small nod, indicating he'd had enough conversation for the night. He walked back up to the boy's dormitory without another comment, leaving Aster in the empty common room alone.
There was a lot to process today. She thought she'd be able to sleep with a smile on her face after spending so much time with Hermione, even a little bit of alone time. But that word "friend" kept ringing in her ears. One would think she'd feel some sort of satisfaction from her interaction with Blaise, one of the few comforting things she'd stumbled upon since they got here.
Aster placed one foot on the stairs, still in thought. This would have been when she'd want to talk to her sister about this emotional plight, but after learning that the late night "chat" with Draco was more than Io laid it out to be, the younger had a flicker of reconsideration. The impending conversation about this crush was a stress that wouldn't go away, and the longer she thought about it, the more she wanted to run every time Hermione turned the corner.
She continued up the stairs, already thinking about how she'd brag to everyone about the Butterbeer ice cream and the candied cherries on top.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione removed her brown jumper, faintly catching a whiff of jasmine and musk. She held the fabric to her face, taking in the scent and letting it linger on her cheeks.