Thirteen: Under the cloak

To wander under the Invisibility cloak was an experience unlike any other. It was such a relief to be able to look at people again, without them staring at her and her scars. Finally, she could observe again, safe in the anonymity of before. It was even stranger to observe the Slytherins coming and going to and from their common room. Here in the low light of the Dungeons, far away from the other Houses, most of them looked so very different. Less guarded. Less hostile. Even Malfoy had looked stressed and exhausted, rather than contemptuous.

And Astoria, when she finally left the Dungeons, just looked sad. A ball of stress formed in Ginny's stomach and she considered keeping the cloak on and just letting her friend – former friend? – walk by. She turned Dumbledore's words at the end off her third year over and over in her head, but she could only conclude that there was a clear line between what was right and what was easy. She slipped off the cloak and was grateful that, shocked as she looked, Astoria at least didn't go for her wand.

"Astoria, can we talk?" she asked.

Astoria just turned around and kept walking, nose upturned and pretending as if she wasn't there.

"Please, just let me explain," Ginny said, trailing her.

"Explain?" Astoria snapped, rounding on her. "How do you think you can explain using the Transmogrifian torture on someone?"

Ginny blinked. Now that she knew its name, the curse had become even worse, if something like that was even possible.

"I thought as much," Astoria said in response to her silence and stalked off. Ginny took a deep breath and hurried after her.

"Astoria, please, just listen to me. Five minutes, that's all I ask. For our friendship," she pleaded. Astoria stopped again and gave her a look that made Ginny wonder if even her trump card wasn't enough anymore. That their friendship was gone.

"Five minutes. Start talking," she said, taking out her watch.

"Can we do it somewhere else?" Ginny asked.

"We can talk here."

"You can talk here. I can get hexed by the next Slytherin to leave your common room."

"And whose fault is that?" Astoria crossed her arms, then sighed. "Fine, follow me."

They didn't go to the Room of Requirement as Ginny had hoped, but she supposed an empty classroom was as good as she was going to get. Astoria leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Well?" she asked. "Why did you almost kill Nott?"

"I… I wasn't well," Ginny said. Astoria scoffed.

"Neither was Nott, thanks to you."

"I didn't know what the spell would do. I'd seen Rookwood use it once, but it didn't… didn't do that."

"And a Slytherin was perfectly fine as a guinea pig?" Astoria snapped back. Her eyes seemed to burn with impatience and Ginny realised she wasn't going to get away with anything but the truth. Not if she wanted to save her friendship.

"When they cornered me, I felt like I was back in the Department of Mysteries," she admitted and for the first time, something akin to doubt passed across Astoria's face. Right, not easy, Ginny reminded herself, and pushed on.

"And then Nott was pushing me back, spell after spell. I was losing. I was too weak. And suddenly I wasn't fighting him anymore. I was fighting Dolohov. Only this time, all my friends were already dead and no one was going to save me. I was all alone. I was going to die alone. And I just lost it," she stammered, the admission tasting like ash in her mouth. "But I didn't want that to happen. I could have killed him. Oh, I could have killed him."

She didn't know when she'd started crying, or how many of her five minutes had already expired. Only, one second Tom was mocking her for her weakness, and the next, she could feel arms around her.

"Shh it's alright, Ginny," Astoria said, pulling her closer. "I'm here. Let it out."

And then she cried some more.

Astoria had told Ginny to put the cloak back on and wait there. She'd returned with a record and two cups, before dragging her to the Room of Requirement. Now, Ginny was clutching a cup of tea and wrapped in a cat-themed blanket, as Astoria fiddled with the Gramophone's needle. A soft piano and a deep voice floated across the room. It didn't sound like any Wizarding record Ginny had ever heard, but it fit the mood rather well.

"So," Astoria said as she dropped next to her and touched her mug against Ginny's. "Sorry for locking you out."

"It's fine. I can imagine how it must have looked. What kind of idiot uses an unknown curse anyway?"

"What kind of magical genius reproduces an infamously difficult curse after witnessing it once? I thought you must have spent months practicing it."

"Guess we Weasleys are just born dark wizards," she snorted. It got a lot easier to imitate a curse if you saw it every night in your dreams. Somehow, Astoria seemed to understand that instincitvely. She pulled Ginny a little closer.

"This week has been shit without you," Ginny said.

"Same. Do you know how many Mudblood jokes Harper made during that one Potions class? Eleven. You'd almost start to admire his inventiveness," Astoria said, rolling her eyes. "Partner up again on Monday?"

"You can count on it, Tori," Ginny said, the nickname coming out a bit hesitatingly still, unsure as she was if she'd regained the right to use it. When Astoria didn't complain, the last ball of stress in her stomach unfolded itself.

"Now, I need to hear how in Merlin's name Cormac McLaggen made the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"The competition was miserable and he, unfortunately, did well. In hindsight, I should have Confunded him before the trials."

"Yes, you should have. This is why you need me. I'd have come up with that plan before it was too late. Unless we poison his cup at the next Slug Club meeting?" she suggested, tossing a biscuit in the air and then catching it in her mug with a plop, spilling some tea over the edge.

"We are not poisoning my own team."

"Fine," Astoria sighed. "can we at least poison Urquhart then? Ever since he made captain, he's been even more insufferable than before. I mean, he wasn't even on the team last year and now he's suddenly this bigshot?"

"Have you had trials yet?" Ginny asked.

"They've been delayed. They were supposed to happen this week but," she hesitated, looking a bit nervous. "Nott was intending to try out, so they postponed them."

"Ah," Ginny said, sipping from her mug to fill the silence.

"Just to be clear, if you knock him off his broom, I'm okay with that," Astoria said eventually. "Same for Malfoy. If he's even playing this year."

"How do you mean?" Ginny asked. In what universe wouldn't Malfoy be starting? The team was still playing on Malfoy sponsored brooms for one.

"He's been acting strange ever since he got to Hogwarts. Always wandering off, looking preoccupied, muttering to himself…"

"He looked rather exhausted when he left the common room this morning," Ginny said.

"How long were you out there?" Astoria asked, visibly amused.

"A while," she admitted.

"Voyeur," Astoria chuckled. "I'm flattered you went through the effort. But yeah, I don't know what's up with Malfoy. Maybe it's because his father is in Azkaban?"

"Maybe," Ginny said, recalling the picture of him flanked by Dementors that the Prophet had so happily put on its front page.

Scattered as the fight had been, most of the Death Eaters had managed to sneak away. Malfoy, Rookwood, Nott, Jugson and the severely concussed Rabastan Lestrange had been less lucky. If only they'd caught Dolohov as well. Before she'd arrived at Hogwarts, every passer-by had looked like him. She had kept expecting him to jump from the shadows and finish what he'd started.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Astoria promised. "It's not as if he's bad to look at."

"Tori!" Ginny protested, a shiver running down her spine at the mere thought of Malfoy being desirable.

"What? He's a total jerk, but his jawline… now that's art," she said, taking a bite out of her biscuit with a far-too-proud grin.

"To me he'll always look like a ferret. Remember Moody? Well, fake Moody," she amended.

"Right, that was funny. As far as homicidal DADA teachers went, he was my favourite," Astoria said. "Do you think we'll ever have another Triwizard Tournament?"

"Somehow, I doubt it."

"Yeah, you're probably right," she sighed. "Shame. I really enjoyed Fleur Delacour finishing last each time."

"Bill's dating her now, you know?"

"Your oldest brother? You're joking!" Astoria almost shrieked. Ginny just shook her head. "Well, best of luck with that. How's her accent by now?"

"Still terrible," Ginny muttered.

At least the letter arrived on Sunday. As it was, only a quarter of the school were there to watch Harry Potter's old owl swoop down in front of Ginny during breakfast. Her heart skipped a beat as Hedwig landed in front of her and extended her leg. How many times hadn't she flown through the Great Hall before? Always going for Harry first, and Ron's bacon second. How often hadn't she come to the Burrow carrying a letter from Harry, usually downplaying just how horrible his relatives were yet again? She'd missed the beautiful, far too clever snowy owl.

How easy it was to hope that somehow, Hedwig would be carrying a letter from Harry again. Her hands shook as she removed the parchment from Hedwig's legs and then just stared at the roll of velum. As long as she left it unopened, there was still a chance that it was from him. The Boy Who Lived defying all the odds just one more time, like he'd done so often before. Writing her to tell not to worry, because how could he leave them?

Ginny,

It's high time we talked. When is the next Hogsmeade weekend?

Don't tell anyone in the Order about this

Sirius

She wanted to scream in disappointment. She wanted to tear the parchment to shreds. Instead, she left the Great Hall, fetched her broom and flew as high as she could until all she could feel was the cold. Until she no longer had to think about Harry never writing letters again, or Sirius' infuriatingly short ones.