Chapter 23) No Way Back
Selected Listening: The Kid's Aren't Alright- Fall Out Boy
Thanks for your patience with the most recent chapter! I hit a bit of a writer's block and my anxiety meds weren't helping with focus. :'). GOF is definitely been the hardest for me to write so far because there's so much going on, and it connects everything I wrote for the beginning of the series with everything I wrote for the end, so I have to be sure it matches up. I appreciate any encouragement you have. Favs, follows, and reviews appreciated. The story itself should pick up a little from here. Thanks for reading!
"Anastasia!" Hermione shook her shoulder as the headmaster's daughter continued to bury herself further under the blankets in her dormitory bed. "I know you're faking it. Malfoy's fine," she yelled.
Anastasia didn't answer. She could hear her friend, but she had her headphones pulled around her ears zoning out while the Irish singer's coarse voice blasted in her ears.
"Ugh!" Hermione shouted, grabbed something from her trunk by the window and vanished back down the stairs.
When she returned, another pair of footsteps joined her. Hermione slammed the door to the dormitory and locked it.
"Anastasia, stop giving Granger the 'I'm sick' crap and tell us what Bagman said," Draco yelled.
Anastasia ripped her headphones off and peeked slowly out from the covers.
"How'd you bring him here?" she squeaked. The stairs were cursed to not let boys up. Draco simply held up her invisibility cloak. Hermione had grabbed it from her trunk without asking. She wasn't aware the stairs could be tricked like that.
"Let me get dressed," she stalled.
"You're wearing pajamas. Just tell us," Draco pushed exasperatedly.
She finally sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, glaring at them.
"Fine," she sighed.
And so she explained everything Bagman said about the traitor.
"So, Mr. Bagman knows about this and he's not going to stop it?" Hermione raged. "Someone could get hurt!"
Anastasia nodded.
"He said the wizards who made the cup didn't leave behind any sort of records explaining the magic they used. So, he probably can't undo it. That's why they can't get Harry out of the magical contract…"
Draco and Hermione stared, dumbfounded.
"..and that's also why I'm going to stay in bed until this is all over," she pulled the covers back over her head and hunkered down.
"You can't stay in bed all year. You have to go to class," Hermione corrected, shaking her shoulder again.
"It's not if it means I won't hurt anyone," she mumbled into her elbows.
There was some sort of unwilling, unspoken communication between Hermione and Draco, that ended in one of them leaving in a huff and the door slamming shut once again.
The familiar scent of mint and licorice came over her as his weight dropped on to the bed and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
"Anastasia," he murmured gently into her hair, "this isn't your fault. No one would blame you if something happens. No one even knows you're involved."
"But I'd blame me," she said faintly.
"Why are you being so hard on yourself?" he asked.
She didn't know for sure…she supposed it started the night Pettigrew ran away…the night she became almost, since then, it had felt like everything had been her fault in one way or another.
Draco kept going without an answer.
"Look, the champions are champions for a reason, right? Krum's a mad quidditch player. Diggory's got all his gnomes in a row. The part-Veela must have some trick up her sleeve. And Potter, well we know Potter's always going to come out ahead even if he's just wanking around. So really, what's there to worry about?"
Anastasia peeked out from the covers to find his comforting gaze and took a deep breath.
"I suppose you're right," she said hopelessly.
"That's the spirit. And you know what'll take your mind off it even more?"
"What?" she asked.
"We've got Hogsmeade next weekend."
For the rest of the week, Anastasia did her best to avoid Harry at all costs. Even though Draco's words reassured her, she couldn't risk doing anything that would put him in more danger.
"But Anastasia, we could really use your help," Hermione begged. "Harry still doesn't know what the task will be or what spells to prepare for."
The two had been in the library all week to no avail, and Anastasia could tell Harry was starting to get nervous by his ability to suggest every other thing they could do besides look for ways to prepare. Procrastination was his specialty.
"Why don't we go to Hagrid's?" he asked, "I'm sure he could use help with the skrewts."
"No," the girls answered.
"What about working on SPEW badges?" Harry asked pathetically. Anastasia lifted her eyebrows asking him Really? They had done so much work to not encourage Hermione on this exploit. His suggestion almost broke the muggle-born progressivist, but finally she said.
"No, Harry. You must prepare for the tournament. You can help me with SPEW badges later if you're suddenly so interested," she snapped.
Although the drama of the games was trying, Anastasia and Draco were happy to find that Moody had decided to leave them alone after the imperio incident. Anastasia had a feeling that Minerva had a mighty long talk with him about appropriate pedagogy since then. His lessons were now all on counter-curses and hex-deflection, which they found more useful anyway.
Snape continued to give the Gryffindors as difficult of a time as usual, and Anastasia did her best to ignore him. Luckily, he had stopped targeting Harry and Hermione, and returned to hating them all equally. When he did make eye contact with her, she didn't smile, simply stared at him in intense dislike until he finished whatever he was saying.
In the evenings, after homework was done, she sat on the cushion next to the windowsill with her headphones over her ears and kept listening to the music. She couldn't stop worrying about the competition, couldn't stop thinking about Harry dying accidentally because of her.
Across the way, Fred and George were huddled over a table, tinkering with something. Ginny peered over the twins' shoulders, and they shooed her away. The Weasley girl looked up and saw Anastasia. A glint of recognition hung in her eyes. She approached with Neville padding along behind her.
"Hi, Stasia," Neville chimed brightly.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, looking between the CD player and her, "You seem ill."
"I'm fine…just a bit out of it," she fudged.
"Is that a music maker? I thought muggle devices didn't work here," Ginny commented, taking the CD player from her and examining it. Her expression grew more confused as she handed it back.
"They don't," Neville confirmed.
"Right, well—" Anastasia stared at Ginny. Her CD player, before it was broken and fixed again, was not able to work in Gryffindor tower. It could only work in the headmaster's suite where the electronic wards had been lowered by her grandad's spells. Something Draco had done made it work outside of those bounds.
"It's been upgraded…" she drifted off. "…anyway, I'm really tired. I'm going to bed." She finished and stood up from the sill. Ginny grabbed her wrist.
"Anastasia, if something's wrong, you'd tell us, right? Tell Professor Dumbledore, or at least Hermione?"
Anastasia frowned. She shook her head.
"Nothing's wrong, Ginny. Don't worry about me." Worry about Harry, she thought and vanished up the stairs.
On the day they went to Hogsmeade, the students set out in pairs down the cobblestone walkways to the tiny town. Anastasia walked side-by-side with Draco, her arm linked through his.
"It's such a beautiful day. It almost makes me want to hang back so we can enjoy it alone," Anastasia said, squeezing his arm closer. His eyes flashed to her, tempted.
"Ooh!" she tugged on his arm excitedly. "Let's go to the quidditch pitch. It will be completely empty. I haven't been flying since summer. And after this weekend, it will be closed for the tournament games."
"Uh…I sort of made special plans. Can't we go flying later?"
"Oh. Okay, like what?" she asked, curious.
"I was just thinking, we've never been on a proper date. We've always ended up together on accident…so I—" he almost seemed embarrassed to say it, his ears automatically turned pink.
"So…you what?" she pushed.
"I arranged for a reservation at that teashop, Madam Puddifoot's or whatever," he mumbled sheepishly.
"Oh." Anastasia's lip twitched. She had always seen that frilly pink place in passing. "Is that really us?"
"What do you mean, is it us? That's where all the couples go."
"That's exactly what I mean. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm the kind of girl who enjoys a tea party. Afternoon tea? Sure. A tea party? I'd rather vomit."
"It's special," he turned red, "can you just try it once?"
Anastasia stared at Draco, surprised by his dedication. He rarely planned anything unique like this just for the two of them, so she supposed it was rude of her to say no.
"Fine. Just once," she offered, "but if we finish early, can we please go fly?"
Draco grinned.
"Course, princess."
The couple, arm in arm, walked all the way up to high street. Anastasia, having never been down that way, nearly recoiled at the entrance. The front of the shop was painted pastel pink and green, and she could see layers of bows and frills through the windows.
Draco stopped with her, sensing her apprehension. She looked up at him pleadingly.
"It's just once. I promise," he begged, sweat dripping down his neckline. She pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to him.
"You don't have to be so nervous," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "We're already together, remember? And it's not your fault if I don't like it. You didn't decorate the place."
He swallowed nervously and tucked the handkerchief back into his own pocket.
"Right…"
The two strolled into the small steamy shop as a statue of two birds above the door came to life and tweeted their arrival. A blast of rose and hibiscus tea wafted over them, and they stood, baffled by the sensory overload as a middle-aged witch in a frilly apron and bonnet greeted them at the door.
"Malfoy and Dumbledore," she grinned cheerily, "table for two?"
"Um, yes," Draco said, pulling at his collar.
The woman led them to a small, doily-covered table to the side of the first level, next to a window. Anastasia looked up to where the stairs ascended and saw a nested loft above where several groups of Blugarian and Slytherin students sat.
Madame Puddifoot followed Anastasia's gaze.
"Interesting, a lot more boys here today. Didn't know the Dumstrang students would have such a sensitive side. Love to see it though!" she chimed. "I'll give you some time to look over the menu."
Draco pulled out Anastasia's chair for her and she sat, thanking him. He sat down across from her and picked up the menu for tea, frowning over it as if he would choose anything but earl gray.
Anastasia tried to focus on her own menu, but her eyes kept flickering up to the Durmstrang students above. There was something odd about them. Everyone else there had a date, but they all seemed to be hanging out, chuckling. When two of them returned her glance, she blushed furiously and looked away.
"Why are those Durmstrang students acting so odd?" she whispered. Draco looked up, innocently.
"Huh? I didn't notice."
"Why are they up there?" she asked. He shrugged. A shiny beetle buzzed by through the air.
"Maybe they had dates too."
"With each other?" she emphasized, "And no girls at all?"
He scoffed and feigned insult.
"Of all the witches to ask that question! Maybe Durmstrang is very progressive," he smirked.
Anastasia raised an eyebrow at him.
"If Durmstrang is progressive, then I'm a tea cozy."
"Either way, let's enjoy the time together while we have it," he took her hand. She obliged and smiled sweetly. She missed their innocent banter of the early days. She gazed outside the window, and wished they were alone. He leaned in, snogging her into a fantastic stupor.
With the tea came a tower of cakes, but on Anastasia's side there was a small white name placard facing her. Anastasia looked up to the tea house owner, and the woman raised her eyebrows at her meaningfully.
Anastasia picked up the card and read it.
You are being watched.
"Draco, I want to leave," she said shortly.
"Why? We just got our food."
"Let's take it with us," she continued, handing him the card, "I'll eat when I have my appetite back…and when you've explained."
Madame Puddifoot packaged up the cakes and cookies and put them in a pink bag with gold glitter font. They walked out calmly. Anastasia did not want to make a scene.
"So, what was that about?" she asked coldly.
"We were having a good time, Anastasia! Why are you mad?"
"Because you set us up like some sort of zoo exhibit," she fumed.
"Anatasia, they didn't believe we were dating. I had to prove it somehow."
"Why?" Anastasia asked, turning rapidly. "If those dolts don't believe that we're dating, why does it matter? Why do you care so much about what other people think?"
"It's not that—" he touched her arms and gazed into her eyes.
"Well then, what is it?" she pulled away.
"Like I said, I'm trying to keep us both safe."
"Safe from what?" Anastasia folded her arms across her chest.
"The Durmstrang students. They practice a lot more magic than we do, different magic."
"Are you saying they've been practicing dark magic? Here at Hogwarts?"
"It's not dark; it's just different," he defended.
"But you're afraid of it?"
"I'm not afraid of it. I used the same stuff to fix your music machine. It's only dark if you use it for the wrong reasons," Draco snapped.
"You used dark magic to fix my CD player?" she asked. "That must be why I've felt terrible all week, and why I—" she remembered her venture into the forest and running into Barty Crouch.
"Haven't you felt terrible all week because of the Triwizard tournament?" Draco asked. "Don't blame your shitty mood on my gift."
Anastasia stared back at him, baffledly. Was the reason she wandered into the forest because of her role as the saboteur or because of the CD player? She hadn't wandered anywhere mysterious since then, but she'd been using the CD player every day.
"I-I don't know," She wiped a hand across her face. "I'm confused and I'm tired all the time lately."
She fished into her pocket and brought out the CD player.
"Could you hold onto this for now?" she asked. "If I'm still in a 'shitty mood' in a week I'll ask for it back."
Draco scowled and looked off into the distance. Then, he hesitantly took it and pocketed it himself. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her to him.
"We'll figure it out, fox. Let's go for a fly."
She looked up into his eyes, and kissed him.
Anastasia returned to the common room, feeling better than she had all week. The day had been perfect for flying, and for once, time with Draco had felt like it did that summer. Perfect, and untouchable.
She came in through the porthole late and was greeted instantly by a frantic Harry.
"Dragons," Harry said to her and Hermione in a lowered voice, "I have to get an egg away from a Dragon."
Anastasia's mind flashed back to the bag Mr. Crouch held. A spiral flame came out of it when she touched it.
She had felt the magic shift. She had doomed him. She knew it.
"I-I'm really tired, Harry…I need to go to bed."
And she stumbled up the staircase alone.
Anastasia barely slept in the last three nights before the task. She arose early Tuesday morning and worried through her classes.
At noon she could barely hold her head up. Anastasia tried to hide her worry behind a smile, but it leaked through her eyes.
"What-what's wrong?" Draco asked at the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Moody leered at them from across the room as the students cleared out.
"Let's go somewhere private."
Anastasia brought him to their usual broom closet.
"I think I might have done something," she admitted.
His gaze turned to a softened frown. "Like what?"
"Last week, after we had dinner with Bagman, I ran into Barty Crouch."
"Yeah?"
"Like literally, I knocked this bag out of his hands, and when I touched it, I felt something."
"You felt something?"
"Like magic…I'm not sure what kind of magic."
"You think it's for the game?"
"It has to be," she said, "but it was odd. It was like, when I touched the bag, something changed. And a flame came out of it, and Harry just found out that the game is going to have dragons!"
"You're psyching yourself out after what Bagman said," he suggested.
"I wouldn't have even thought about it if it weren't for the dragons. Draco, I think I might have sabotaged something! What if whatever I did screwed with the task for today and—" she couldn't bear to think.
"What?"
"What if someone gets hurt—what if Harry gets hurt—or killed, I can't!"
Draco gritted his teeth. It went against every fiber of his being to help her through this particular issue. Who cared if Potter died? Dammit, she cared. And if she cared, well he had to care too. Even if he would rather the dragon roast Potter into a wizard kabob.
"Fine, fine, let's see if we can find Mr. Bagman before the task. Maybe he can fix it."
The two sprinted down the hill, all the way to the quidditch pitch, which had been transformed into an arena of rocky terrain. They found Ludo coming out of the pitch.
"Miss Dumbledore, and Young Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise. Happy Tournament Day!"
"Mr. Bagman," she said, huffing over her knees. "Mr. Bagman, please. You can't hold the task—I think I—" Anastasia's breath cut short. Draco turned his head, and she heard the sound of his inhaler, which he hid from Mr. Bagman. "I think I sabotaged something."
And she explained what happened all in one sentence.
"Yes, well…as I said the other day, it is your job, isn't it? Saboteur?" he smiled wryly.
Anastasia's thought-track flatlined.
"But I don't want it to be!" she yelled. "What if someone gets hurt because of me?"
Mr. Bagman's smile twisted mischievously as he tried not to laugh.
"That's all part of the game. I couldn't do anything about it. Not at all."
"What about Mr. Crouch—"
"The Goblet decides the rules, young lady. Not Mr. Crouch, not me, the goblet. And you'll play your part just as everyone else will. Now, if you'll please step aside. I have a task to complete."
"That's a load of bullocks," Draco said once Bagman had walked off into the fields around the pitch. "Anastasia, I'm sure it'll go fine as it can go. If Potter messes up and dies, well it'll be his fault, not yours."
She began to sob.
"Oh, come on, Stasia," and he held her as she cried on the hill.
Anastasia trembled in the stands, gripping Hermione's hand, their knuckles going white from the tension as they watched the champions duck, dodge, and roll away from the dragons' swipes and fiery breath.
"No, no, no," she muttered to herself when the third champion, Krum, claimed his golden egg and walked off.
"Want to make a bet?" Fred and George asked the girls cheerily. Fred had some counting machine rigged up to his chest, and George held a small bag of change. "How long do you think Harry'll last?"
The girls glared at them.
"They're testy, aren't they?" Geroge asked.
"So testy," replied George.
They whistled and turned away.
Finally, it was Harry's turn. He stumbled into the arena and raised his head to the Hungarian Horntail. The dragon, obviously the most dangerous, and already agitated by being forced into the arena with her eggs, took one look, and blew a fiery blast in his direction.
The crowd screamed as Harry jumped behind a rock.
"Your broom!" Hermione shouted. "Harry, your broom!"
Harry shook himself from the rude awakening, raised his wand, and shouted the spell.
It was a few more minutes of Harry running and ducking, doing anything he could to avoid being picked off by the dragon before his saving grace arrived. Anastasia didn't miss Draco in the Slytherin section, cheering happily at the thought of Harry's impending demise. She scowled.
"Oh no, what if it didn't work?" Hermione fretted.
As she did, the firebolt flew into the arena. Harry jumped aboard, swiped up the golden egg, and raised it proudly above his head.
"Harry Potter has completed the first task!" Bagman's voice echoed over the crowd.
Anastasia and Hermione screamed in delight and relief, jumping up and down at the sight of their friend, still all in one piece.
A few feet away, Ron breathed heavily with one hand over his heart. A giant weight taken off him.
"Do you believe him now?" Anastasia asked cheekily.
Ron nodded dumbfounded.
That night, the common room echoed in excitement and delight. Even Harry, for once, seemed to be enjoying himself in all of it, and Anastasia, for once, didn't feel the need to hide in her room with her CD player.
The house elves had brought up a fine spread for the lot of them. Sandwiches, meats and cheeses, chips and dips, sweets of all kinds, and a grand cake to top it all off. The radio in the corner blasted wizarding rock music, and Fred and George began passing around a plate of yellow pastries.
"Princess?" Fred asked, offering the platter to her with a grin. She shook her head.
"You're not fooling me again," she said pointedly. Fred winked.
"Your loss," he shrugged and offered the platter to Neville.
As soon as he took the first bite, Neville exploded in a firework of yellow feathers, becoming a grand canary. The entire room burst into laughter. Moments later, he molted, and the laughter continued, him included. Other students grabbed the remaining canary creams. The twin inventors beamed over the crowd.
Anastasia stared at Fred in the firelight as she nodded off, her head falling back against the couch, smiling peacefully.