Chapter 7) Accident

Selected Listening: Folkin' Around- Panic! At the Disco

Author's Note: If I could choose a theme song for the entire series, it would be this one.

Mopsy called in her shrill tone up the stairs for dinner, and Anastasia jumped away from Draco, startled. Suddenly, like fluttering birds they could not hold eye contact without nervousness leaking into their stomachs.

"We should go," she said.

"Right," agreed Draco.

The next day, she rose and had breakfast alone. The adults had already left for work and Draco slept in. Anastasia decided to be comfy for once, so she wore the concert T-shirt Charity had given and jean shorts and cozied into the window alcove of the library. Later, Draco wandered down and found her. His gaze fixed on her intently.

"I was thinking…you want to go for a fly?" he said hesitantly.

She cleared her throat.

"Um, yeah, sure." She said, putting down her book and gathering her things to go out.

They walked to the pitch in silence. There was something different about today. Anastasia wanted to ask, and Draco wanted to answer. But they were both stuck in their own thoughts and couldn't come down to talk. They arrived at the pitch, and Draco turned to her, bucking up the courage to say anything.

"I need to—" he started, but a low rumbling echoed through the forest just a few feet away from where they stood.

Draco yelped.

"Aah! Aah! The trolls!"

"Those are automobiles." Anastasia corrected. She judged the height of the barrier surrounding the pitch and hoisted herself up to get a look. Sure enough, a line of cars, trailers and trucks were driving through the forest.

But there weren't just automobiles. Music, the sound of steel guitars echoed toward them.

"Come on," she gestured to Draco. He followed her up, but besides his eyes, stayed hidden behind the barrier, as if he were afraid the cars might shoot bullets.

Anastasia peered into the forest a few tree lines over, they could see a whole field of people and stages set up. Muggles and wizards alike strolled in tank tops and cut-off jeans, decked in black and metal. Sweating in the humid summer air, laced with the scent of beer and smoke.

"Quick, read the back of my t-shirt on today's date," she held up her hair so Draco could trace the lines.

"August 24th…Peterborough."

"Peterborough!" Anastasia yipped excitedly, almost losing hold of the fence. He held his arm out to catch her in case she fell, but she didn't. "That's where we are. Draco, it's a music festival. We have to go!"

"And commune with a bunch of sweaty muggles all day? I think not."

Anastasia knew the perfect cure for his hesitation.

"You're scared," she said nonchalantly. "You're afraid the muggles are going to infect you or something."

"Are they?" he asked skittishly. She shook her head in disbelief.

"No! Now come on. Wait…we'll need cash. Mopsy!" she called, and the little elf appeared below them on the grass. The startled elf stared up at them with wide eyes.

"Please I—"

"Can you fetch the bag of cash in my room, Mopsy?" Anastasia asked.

The little elf stared more.

"That's all you want? You don't want to punish Mopsy?"

"Why would I?" Anastasia asked, although Draco seemed he was holding back a growl. "No, just get my bag please."

"Right," Mopsy disappeared and then returned in a flash. "Here you go, Miss." Anastasia took the bag in her hand that wasn't holding on to the fence, and pulled the drawstring open with her teeth. She grinned.

"Muggle money! Grandad remembered. Thanks, Mopsy."

Mopsy stared at her in disbelief.

Before she could vanish, Draco grabbed the elf by the collar of her quilted dress and hissed through his teeth.

"If you tell my father anything about what we are doing today, I will ensure the rest of your elfish life is a living nightmare."

Mopsy wailed and vanished.

Anastasia glared at Draco in disapproval. He looked away and sighed.

"There's no reason to threaten her," Anastasia chastised. Draco gestured to the music festival as if it were an alien planet. She grinned.

"Are we going or not?" he snapped.

And they climbed over the fence.

They bought their tickets and slipped inside without a problem. Draco's green and gray sports robe looked off, but not out of place amongst the strange outfits of goths and hippies, and Anastasia's outfit blended right in. She couldn't help smiling at the blonde boy she cared so much for, even though his eyes shifted back and forth anxiously, and he jumped any time someone brushed too close.

Then she saw the main stage and grabbed his hand.

"Come on!" she yelled and pulled him along into the crowd.

The music thrashed and Anastasia jumped along, waving her arms along with the music. Like stepping into a pool of deep, cold water, Draco stood still for a few moments before beginning to move with her. She grinned encouragingly.

Half an hour in, he gained some confidence, laughing at those who were drunk out of their minds and thrashing about like idiots. She laughed because she'd never seen him smile so much.

Draco took her arm, turned her towards him. She stared at him questioningly. His eyes pained, but a grin graced his expression. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her closer.

"I need to tell you something!" he shouted, but Anastasia couldn't hear him over the pounding of the music…or her heartbeat in her ears.

"What?" she shouted back.

"I'm going to—" the rest was muffled.

"I can't hear you!" she yelled. He started again, but a group was thrown back from the circle of thrashing adults and crashed into them, toppling them out of the crowd in a flash of pink and red.

Anastasia pulled herself upright and found them entangled with a familiar bunch.

"Percy?" she asked. There were two more with him. The aurors Anastasia saw on the day they visited Moody. The girl with the pink spikes, and the other Weasley with the earring.

"What'd you do that for, Perce?" the one with the earring asked.

"I already told you, Bill. I'm not in the mood," he grumbled. The pink haired auror rubbed the back of her head, looked around and jumped up, looking at the two teenagers. Her eyes widened and she ducked behind the other auror.

Draco helped Anastasia to her feet.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, Weasels!"

"It's fine," Anastasia said, offering a hand to the disgruntled Percy, who took it, and then looked away without saying thank you. "Really."

"Just because your girlfriend caught a cold and couldn't come isn't a good reason for you to make our day miserable," Bill countered.

"Is Penelope not feeling well?" Anastasia asked.

Percy shook his head and stormed off. The pink-haired auror gripped the back of the eldest Weasley's shirt, face away, as if she could get out of there no sooner. The eldest Weasley offered his hand in greeting.

"Don't mind him. He's acting so weird lately. I'm Bill by the way. And you're Anastasia, and you're um…oh." Bill stared at Draco a moment, then at the pink-haired witch attached to his shoulder, trying to be invisible and failing. He said nothing about it and raised a judgmental eyebrow at Anastasia. "Right, well, nice seeing you."

Anastasia couldn't help staring after the pink-haired witch as they left.

"That was odd…" Anastasia drawled "…do you know her?"

Draco shook his head.

"No. It doesn't matter. Come on, we should get back before my parents come home and find us missing."

They walked in silence back through the line of trees that separated Malfoy Manor from the concert field. They reached the pitch fence, and realizing they could not climb over, began to wade their way through the dense tree roots that wrapped around the pitch.

Draco walked slightly ahead of her and watching his back instead of his face allowed her to gather her courage.

"It wasn't an accident, by the way," Anastasia finally said. "The kiss. I didn't mean it like that."

She saw his gaze dart over his shoulder for only a second, but he kept walking.

"Yeah? Well, what exactly did you mean, princess?"

Anastasia tried to pull as much bravery from the pit of her stomach as he had by going with her that day.

"I was trying to give you an out. So that, if you needed to cover up what happened you could…and so that if you wanted, you could ignore me forever."

"Who said I wanted one?" he asked pointedly and turned around to face her, lighting a spark of hope, and in the same bitter sentence, dashing it. "It doesn't matter now. I'm not going to be able to see you at all in a week anyway."

"Wait—what do you mean—"

"I'm going to Durmstrang, Anastasia," he said, dropping his arms defeatedly. "Mopsy ratted us out. Father found out that the Zabinis were out of the country, and then questioned her until she tattled about all the time we spent together. He went ballistic, already owled the headmaster."

"What?" she said, aghast. "No, no he can't. I'll…I'll."

Draco shook his head.

"His mind is set."

Tears welled up in her eyes so badly she couldn't see him through the blurs of emerald trees. She wanted to scream. But then again, they hadn't really been careful. They hadn't considered Mopsy.

Draco brushed her tears away and caressed the side of her face, his scent overtaking her.

"Don't look so glum," he stated, a glint of humor through his own stained expression. "We're an accident, remember?"

She shook her head, tears streaming, and ran all the way back to the house.

Anastasia hid in her room, hugging a pillow. She couldn't believe how she was acting. If Draco had left two years ago, she might have thrown a party. Now it felt like the end of the world.

When she heard the pop of apparation and the click of heeled boots down the hall, she drew herself up and wiped her eyes.

She found Narcissa in the library, strewn across the chaise, a hand on her head.

Anastasia planned to ask if she was really letting Lucius send Draco away, but instead other words came out of her mouth.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. The witch looked up at her with tired eyes.

"The job takes a toll."

"Why?" Anastasia asked, "Why did you choose this profession if you knew it would hurt you?"

"I didn't..." Narcissa said in a bittersweet tone. "Sometimes you don't choose your path. A series of circumstances occurs...you find yourself with no other choice. In my case, I'm the only one who can do my job in the entire country…possibly the world." She stared off into the distance."

"But those witches, couldn't they take care of it themselves?" Anastasia asked.

"If they did, it would be very unsafe..." Narcissa drifted off. She patted the end of the chaise for Anastasia to sit, and she took the ribbon out of her hair, letting her ginger locks fall across her shoulders, frizzy from the steamy shower. The woman ran her fingers through her goddaughter's hair gently as she hummed a familiar song. Anastasia recognized it as the song from her music box that Narcissa had given her long ago.

At the dinner table, Lucius ate through gritted teeth. Everyone else ate their food silently. Anastasia refused to look anyone in the eye. Lucius eventually slammed his fork down and stared at his family and unwanted guest.

"Durmstrang students are going to Hogwarts this year for a special event…so you will remain at Hogwarts," he said sternly. Draco grinned, but when he made eye contact with Anastasia, his face fell. So did hers. The afternoon had been too painful to revive their happiness so suddenly.

Narcissa grinned delightedly.

"All as it should be," she chimed, "but what—"

"What event?" Anastasia and Draco asked at the same time.

Even before Lucius could attempt to answer, familiarity dawned on his wife's face.

"They can't—" Narcissa began. "He wouldn't—"

"No one under 17 this time…" Lucius said in consolation. "It's all grand scheme of Bagman's to up his game after the excitement of the quidditch cup."

"At least there's some sense to the rules now," but Narcissa couldn't stymie her smile at the turn of events. "See Draco, you won't have to change schools after all."

"Even so," Lucius shot at Anastasia, "you'd do well to stay away from my son."

Anastasia stormed off without listening to what anyone else had to say about it. She only had to survive two more days at the Manor, and then she would be away from Lucius's Malfoy's tyranny for the foreseeable future.

It was the next morning that Narcissa came downstairs to where Anastasia was eating breakfast, and gently collected the girl's hair and began to examine its various frizzes and lengths.

"What are you doing?" she asked, quite flabbergasted as she pulled her hair away. Her godmother had done nothing to defend her the night before, and Anastasia had taken note. Narcissa lifted her hand and cringed apologetically.

"This evening we're going to that restaurant I mentioned a while back. I was wondering if you've ever been to a salon?" Narcissa asked, knowing very well of the answer.

"No, why would I?" Anastasia asked, protectively twisting it over her shoulder. "If a witch's hair is cut, it's only going to grow back to where it was before."

Her godmother wore a clever smirk.

"That's if a muggle tries to cut it…at a magic salon, the witches can ensure your hair is to your liking."

Anastasia felt her chest tighten. It was the same feeling she had when Narcissa brought her to buy clothing. I don't want to change. Her heart was telling her. I want to stay the same.

But for once, Anastasia's head thought differently. It was very true that she wanted to stay the same internally, but she'd been struggling with her hair all summer, struggling with feeling herself all summer. And if a witch could make it better, then, really what was the harm in that?

"Okay," Anastasia said.

"Okay?" Narcissa asked.

"I'm tired of my hair constantly frizzing up and sticking to me when I don't have it pulled back. I want something different," Anastasia said decidedly.

A proud grin came over Narcissa's face.

"Wonderful! And we can have your nails done while we're at it."

Narcissa grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the floo.

"Wait," Anastasia said sternly, tearing her hand away again. "I'm not your dress-up doll."

Narcissa didn't seem offended by the comment, but she paused with folded hands and listened. Anastasia took a deep breath.

"I'm not here to play makeover. If you're offering to do all this for me, I want it to be something that works, and not just something you think looks pretty. I'm sorry if that's rude…but I needed to say it."

Narcissa paused with an understanding smile.

"Do you understand why I'm doing all this?"

"To make me my existence less offensive to your pig of a husband?" she asked plainly.

Narcissa did her best to hide her smirk, but it shined through.

"No. What I am doing is offering you a leg up in the world, so that you can be all you wish to be without any restrictions on where you might not be welcome. I believe, after all the trouble you've had in life due to my actions, I owe you that in the least."

Anastasia stared at her godmother, now understanding a bit more. Narcissa was only trying to make up for her childhood spent hiding in the shadows.

Anastasia remembered Draco's nervous avoidance the previous night.

"Do you think—" Anastasia couldn't finish her question, couldn't voice the fact that maybe she would appreciate an ounce of tolerance from Lucius Malfoy, even if it was only to make her and Draco's lives a bit easier. Her godmother was offering her a deal, and she might as well take it.

"Alright," Anastasia said finally, looking the witch straight in the eyes, "let's go."