Chapter 18) Vulnerable
Selected Listening: A Young Man's Magic- James Newton Howard
Anastasia fled to the owlery where she found Crenshaw sleeping soundly. The treat she left him earlier had been chomped down, and it gave her hope for his health. She stroked his head between his eyes, and he seemed to sigh in his slumber. The other birds hooted and trilled around them as they began to awaken for an evening fly.
How could Draco be so awful to people? She wondered to herself. It was the exact opposite of how he treated her, and to consolidate his two identities seemed impossible.
"Anastasia," Draco said cautiously as he stepped into the darkened turret. He stared at the nook where Crenshaw lay behind her.
"How's your owl?" he asked gently. She shrugged and turned to face him.
"Not great…but he seems to have woken up and eaten some…so that's a good sign…are you sure you didn't see anything?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Nothing," he answered, "I saw him fly over the forest, and that was it."
Anastasia felt her chest tighten with the soreness of her heart, eyes downcast.
"Did Snape give you a punishment?"
"Only detention," he shrugged and laughed. "Not surprised. He never takes points off for us…plus I think he has something against Moody—"
He saw Anastasia's glare and quieted.
"Can we go somewhere to talk?" he asked hesitantly.
"What's wrong with this?" she asked in return, unsure if she wanted to be alone with him after his public bullying debacle.
"Somewhere more…private," he suggested, gazing about all the owl's eyes staring back at them, zooming around on 270 degree turns.
"Um…fine…but I get to pick," she clarified.
He frowned, hurt at her guardedness, but recovered, "alright then, where?"
Anastasia led him up all the way to the astronomy tower. Starry light filtered in through the columns. She relaxed against one of them, looking out over the grounds. The midnight class hadn't started yet, and the room was completely empty for them to enjoy.
Draco looked at the sky, took a deep breath, and then turned to Anastasia.
"I-I'm sorry," he offered.
"You're sorry?" she lashed out. "This is the second time in a week you've gotten into a major confrontation with my friends!" she said a bit more loudly than she preferred. He looked around exasperatedly.
"I know—I'm just—Potter bothers me alright…Potter and Weasley. Every time I try to find the right words, they get insulted. I don't know how to interact with them. I'm trying."
She stared at him. His eyes glittered in an appropriately apologetic manner.
"I have something for you." Draco reached into his robe and pulled out a familiar object Anastasia had assumed was unsalvageable. Her fingers traced the royal blue shell, and she took it in her hands.
"My CD player," she ogled. "How did you? This couldn't have been fixed with just a simple reparo, it's a muggle electronic."
Draco smirked proudly.
"I have my ways. Blaise helped."
"Thank you," she beamed and tucked it into the pocket of her own robes. "I'm sorry I was so cross. Thank you for trying to talk to my friends…but maybe it's best you give it a rest for a while."
She tiptoed up and kissed him on the cheek. He caught her face in his hands and let them drift down to her neck, touching the sore spots that were beginning to crop up from Moody's unwarranted disciplinary escapade. He took one of her hands and placed it over the same spot on his own neck.
"He shouldn't have done that to you. It was horrible," she murmured.
"Why did your father choose this lunatic to be our new defense teacher?" Draco asked shortly. Anastasia sighed.
"Besides for the fact he barely has a choice in any given year? Apparently, he's a brilliant auror."
Draco frowned concernedly.
"Suppose we'll see tomorrow."
"Suppose we will…thanks again for my—"
Draco caught her in a kiss and backed her against one of the stone pillars. He tangled one hand in her hair, the other pulled her waist closer to him as he deepened the kiss, their tongues teasing. There was something about the lifeline that pulled them towards each other constantly, a pull that Anastasia wasn't sure if she could ever stop…but somehow, they managed.
He staggered away and grinned.
"Goodnight, Princess."
She smirked back.
"Goodnight…ferret."
Anastasia went straight to the girl's dormitory. She didn't want to linger in the common room to hear any of her friends' mocking comments. When she reached the fourth-year bedroom, Hermione was already there waiting for her.
"Are you alright?" she asked immediately.
Anastasia shrugged.
"I'm fine…really…" she tried. She didn't want to think about it anymore.
"Moody hit him pretty hard—"
"Look," she said, ignored Hermione's comment with a smile, and pulled the small device from her robes, "Draco fixed my CD player. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Fixed it? Why was it broken in the first place?"
Anastasia forgot she hadn't told Hermione everything about being at the Malfoy's that summer.
"Oh, his father um…destroyed it."
"It's not easy for wizards to fix electronics…much less entirely decimated ones. You said his father destroyed it?"
Anastasia nodded. A familiar look came over Hermione's expression, pieces clicking together, and then ultimately, worry.
"What?" she asked.
"It's nothing…"
"What?" Anastasia pressed as she took her shoes off and let them fall to the wooden floor. Hermione began to pace.
"I'm just wondering…it's no secret that Mr. Malfoy doesn't like you, with the way he acted at the World Cup and all…what if it was Mr. Malfoy who hurt Crenshaw?"
Anastasia gazed at her. She didn't put it past Lucius Malfoy to destroy anything to do with muggles…or even muggle born magics if he had the chance…but the thought of him hurting an innocent animal for no reason other than to stop her and Draco from talking…that would make him an entirely cruel person.
"I don't know…" she drifted off.
The next morning, Anastasia awoke and looked in the mirror to find small bruises cropping up on the arch of her neck, her wrist, and her leg. Anastasia pulled her sleeves down and her collar up and journeyed down the stairs for breakfast. About halfway down, she met the Weasley twins coming back up as if they were returning from an all-night class. They stopped two steps in front of her.
"Where've you been?" she asked.
"Up all night in the kitchens," George admitted, grinning, and took one step up.
"Brainstorming how dear old Professor Dumbledore might prevent us from entering the Triwizard Championship," Fred said cheekily, and did the same.
"And we've come to a conclusion on the matter," George echoed, taking another step.
"He can't," Fred shrugged.
George walked on with a merry hum, but Fred stopped short at her shoulder. She glared at him for his comment, still frustrated that he'd trade his life for the chance to win money in a game. Fred stared intently at her face.
"What's that—" he pointed to her neck, reaching a finger toward her collar.
She immediately pulled away and covered it. Fred didn't know about the lifeline, and she wanted to keep it that way.
"I-It's nothing," she choked out, "don't worry about it."
"Freddie, what are you—" George reached out to stop him.
"Did Malfoy hurt you?" Fred asked blatantly. Anastasia froze, a bird in a cage. She hadn't even considered what other people who didn't know about the lifeline would think. George's eyes analyzed her face in the same way Fred had.
"No, how could you even—" Anastasia was baffled.
"He wasn't exactly friendly with Ron and Harry yesterday at dinner…" The ginger jabbed.
"If you're trying to accuse him of something, stop. Draco has been nothing but kind to me. He cares, and he would never do something like that."
"Then where did those bruises come from?" The tone of his voice changed from suspicious to nearly threatening. He glowered down at her. She glared right back.
"None of your business," she said defensively and strode away.
At breakfast, Anastasia received two owls, one carried by the Malfoy's Eagle owl, Obsidian, the other from a castle owl. She opened the latter first.
Dear Anastasia,
Please meet me for dinner in the kitchens at 7:30 pm on Wednesday. I would like to catch up with you properly.
Sincerely,
Grandad
Anastasia stared at the note weirdly, rolled her eyes, and tossed it aside. The kitchens? Why wouldn't they eat in the suite like normal?
She took a deep breath and reached for the black-enveloped letter covered in gold filigree peacock feathers. It was tied around a wax-wrapped bundle of some sort of bread. She knew who it was from.
Dear Anastasia,
I realize you are angry with me for taking you to the places mentioned in the Daily Prophet article. I'm aware our values are a tad misaligned, and you wouldn't have come with me otherwise. Please know that I had no idea reporters were present at the salon or the restaurant. It was not my intention to involve you in a public scandal.
You may not believe me now, but I promise to make it up to you soon enough. For now, enjoy the sweets.
Yours truly,
A tad misaligned? Narcissa took her to institutions that intended to hide themselves from muggleborn magics and cooked rare magical creatures for dinner. That's more than misaligned! She raged to herself, then tore the wrap open slightly revealing a vanilla and chocolate chip cake with buttercream frosting.
"I won't be swayed by sweets," she affirmed, crossing her arms.
"Now whose not eating for a 'stupid' reason?" Hermione taunted as she sat down and took a bite of bagel. Anastasia gave her a shrewd look, broke a small piece off the cake, and tossed it into her mouth.
It was the most heavenly baked good she'd ever tasted. She tried to hide the joy on her face from Hermione.
"Doesn't matter…" Anastasia said, "Doesn't make me forgive her faster…it's obvious Mopsy made it anyway."
"So, they have a new elf? And how do they treat it?" Hermione asked
"Possibly better," Anastasia admitted, "But from what I've heard, Mopsy's quite a bit more competent than Dobby ever was."
"Doesn't make it right," Hermione said stubbornly and departed for the library.
When Anastasia entered the classroom, she saw the space next to Draco was still available. He turned over his shoulder and gave her an award-winning smile. She waltzed over and took her spot next to him.
"Looks like we finally get to sit next to each other in class," she gleamed. If they had to endure an arse of a teacher, at least they would be together.
"Looks like it. Try your seed player yet?" he asked.
"CD player," she corrected.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Not yet," she emphasized. "Since the CD is lost, I'll have to go back to my room to grab some of my collection. Maybe you could come by some time and listen with me?" she asked.
"Maybe, I will," he mused. As they waited, she drew out her usual setup of stationary- parchment, quill, and an aubergine inkwell.
Eventually Ron and Harry came in and sat at the front, followed by Hermione and Neville in the row in front of Anastasia and Draco. Moody clunked in last. He went on a long diatribe about how they needed to buck up and see some real spells to know what they were up against, and the only way for him to do that was to perform the three forbidden curses in front of them.
He extracted a spider from a jar with the tip of his wand and in a quick glow, instantly enlarged it to the size of his palm.
Anastasia could see Ron squirm in his seat at the sight of the creature as he suggested the imperio curse.
"Ah, yes, it's given the Ministry quite a bit of trouble over the years, your father would know all about that—imperio!"
The spider immediately flew across the room, and began dancing across textbooks, quills, and hands, Ron shrieked and jumped. Cackling, Moody kept the spider flying above their heads, eventually having it land on Draco's head. He screamed.
Finally, content with his torment, Moody made the spider fly back to his hand.
"Several death eaters claimed they only did the Dark Lord's work under the power of the imperious curse," Moody stared straight at Draco, "the trick is sorting out the liars from whose telling the truth."
Anastasia saw Draco swallow. She had only heard about the case against Lucius briefly in court, when she was undergoing her own custody battle the previous year. She never had gotten the chance to ask Draco how he felt about the whole thing. After seeing his father's hidden collection of dark items that summer, Anastasia was entirely under the impression that Lucius Malfoy was fully and consciously loyal to Voldemort. In court, Narcissa had claimed the opposite.
"Another one?" Moody asked. No one moved, not wanting a repeat of the dancing spider.
A single solemn hand was raised. Neville.
"The cruciatus curse, sir."
"Longbottom, is it?" Moody asked. Neville nodded slightly. The professor dropped the spider onto the desk in front of the lowly Gryffindor. "Mm…crucio!"
The class stared on in horror as the spider twisted, jerked, and writhed under the curse. Neville began to twitch uncontrollably, his breathing audible.
"Can't you see it's bothering him? Stop it!" Hermione shouted.
Moody froze and stared out at the class of school children staring intensely back at him. Even Draco, who would have taken any excuse to tease Neville looked a bit ill.
Anastasia didn't understand…when they met Moody in his office…he had been somber when discussing the fate of the Longbottom's, and he knew that Neville was there to witness it. Why would he do that right in front of him?
"Right," Moody swallowed, "assume you know the last, Granger?"
But Hermione shook her head, unwilling to execute the poor being. Moody finally took the hint from their expressions, but he kept talking.
"No one's certain how the killing curse was developed…some say it's ancient…but it's been used plenty, even official capacities…for modern day executions of criminals and mercy killings of obscurus hosts—"
His spinning eye looked directly at Anastasia.
"—avada kedavra."
The small spider breathed its last.
Anastasia, who hadn't realized how tightly she'd been gripping her quill under the desk, felt Draco's hand come over hers and squeeze it gently until he could remove the quill and hold her hand. Her breathing became shallow as Moody's words brought up memories she had tried so hard to bury. He went on about how the only person to survive it was sitting right in front of him. The man stared directly at Harry, whose breathing had also stopped. She couldn't sit in that class a moment more.
"Right then, class dismissed…"
Anastasia rapidly jumped to grab her things. Draco moved quickly to follow her but was not fast enough.
"Anastasia. Anastasia wait," Draco caught up to her and grabbed her hand again. "What do you know about that bloke?"
Anastasia brushed her arm across her face.
"He's a big jerk. Head of the aurors. He insulted me when I first met him this summer, but I didn't know he was that bad. I can—" she almost said I can't believe why my father hired him. But she could. The position was cursed, so if he was a bad person, maybe this was her father's strategy to mess him up. But if that was the case, why would he tell Moody about Pettigrew's plot?
"It's almost like he knew what would bother us somehow…" Draco went on, "…as individuals, I mean."
Anastasia raised her eyebrows.
"It's not like my obscurus is a secret…neither is your father's imperious case, or what happened to Neville's parents."
"But why hit us with those the first day of class? Even Snape would take issue with that," Draco wondered. Anastasia shook her head.
"He's out to prove we're all weaklings or something…but—"
They spotted Neville on the stairs, staring out the window listlessly. Anastasia approached, dragging Draco behind her.
"Neville—"
Neville turned and flinched at the sight of Draco. Anastasia softened her tone.
"He shouldn't have done that. It was out of bounds, and he's not getting away with it. I'm telling my father immediately."
"Right…" Neville said looking between the Gryffindor and Slytherin to make sense of it all, and just shook his head. "Uh-thanks."
Anastasia stormed all the way to the headmaster's suite, Draco following closely. At the eagle-guarded staircase, she almost ran straight into Barty Crouch, who was just leaving.
"Where do you think you're going?" Mr. Crouch demanded.
"My suite—" she said and tried to push past him. He took out his wand and blasted her back a few steps. The bystanding students flittered away as they ran to lunch.
"Hey!" Draco shouted.
"Hey, yourself, Mr. Malfoy. That's entirely inappropriate—"
"What? I live here?" Anastasia argued, the heat rising in her face.
"You won't be returning here at all this year, Miss Dumbledore. It's required that the secrets of the Triwizard Tournament stay protected by high-level security all year. You couldn't return to the headmaster's suite without your father and school being accused of cheating."
Anastasia threw her hands down, a growl in her throat.
"I don't care about your stupid game! I'm going to talk to my father about school related things because he is the headmaster of Hogwarts, not some pawn in the resurrection of this medieval ritual."
"Right, well, you'll have to wait for him to come down," Barty commented before vanishing.
Anastasia stormed off, muttering and cursing, Draco still running behind, having no way to comfort her.
"All because of this stupid game!" she finished, turning to him as they reached the entrance of the Great Hall. "I'm going to eat. I'll see you in class—"
But Draco caught her wrist and pulled her towards him.
"You're cute when you're angry."
He kissed her and let her go. After which, she couldn't help but smile.
On Wednesday, Anastasia ventured down to the kitchens and found her father posted at grandly set, round table in the corner. She ran to him, hugged him around the shoulders, and then took the seat across. Three house elves tended quietly to their meal of spaghetti and garlic bread.
"I was wondering why you requested we dine here, grandad. So can I really not go back to our suite at all during this inane event?"
"You may not…" Albus leaned in closer, his deep maroon, velvet robes shifted against the checkered tablecloth, "…but of course you can use the backdoor to your room whenever you like."
Anastasia smiled and nodded. Albus would always keep a loophole ready.
"Congratulations, by the way, on your official relationship status with the Malfoy boy," he said, casually raising a glass of cordial towards her.
"Oh," she stuttered, surprised, "who told you?"
"Minerva…at first of course…but now nearly all the faculty have given their opinions. Did you expect me not to find out?"
Anastasia shrugged with an embarrassed smile and took a sip from the water glass an elf poured for her. She wasn't hiding it, but she didn't intend to advertise it either.
"I just don't know what you think of him…" she hinted.
"It doesn't matter what I think of him," he insisted, "What matters is what you think."
"I'm a bit discombobulated on that part myself," she admitted. "He can be wonderful…and also—"
Albus paused, choosing not to comment.
"Horrid," she finished when she realized he wouldn't fill in the blank for her. "To others…not to me."
Albus stared at her meaningfully, "Draco was raised in a household very unlike your own. Although my family didn't have quite the estate the Malfoy's do, I'm sorry to admit that when I was his age, I was quite the same. Only being kind to those as I saw as equals. It took me many years, and much heartbreak, for me to change that perspective."
"Really?" Anastasia asked, squinting. She tried to imagine her father taunting other boys about their upbringing and couldn't. It was antithetical to everything he was now.
He nodded and took a sip of his wine glass, "maybe worse," he admitted.
"Why didn't you ever date? I mean, I know you're…a…a wizard lover…but why not see anyone—"
Albus's eyes widened, he nearly choked on his cordial, but he managed to set his glass down, pat his beard with his napkin, and regain his composure before answering with a nod—as if this were an entirely understandable conversation at this point in Anastasia's life that he had only been putting off.
"I saw enough of someone for one lifetime," Albus explained calmly. "After things ended with the man I loved, I was heartbroken. I never wanted to do the same again…nor could I find my equal."
Anastasia stared at her father. For the first time, he had confirmed his romantic interests to her, and although she heard hints of it before—from Aberforth, and Bathilda Bagshot, and even Lucius Malfoy—she had never gotten the whole story.
"Did he break up with you?" Anastasia asked worriedly.
Albus smiled and shook his head sorrowfully.
"Unfortunately, I had to do most of the breaking. A misalignment of values interrupted our relationship," he lifted his glass of cordial and winked, "…here's hoping you will never find yourself in that position with young Draco."
