Chapter 10) Missteps

Selected Listening: Sirius Fire- Patrick Doyle

Anastasia stepped into the living room of the Burrow at precisely three o'clock in the afternoon. That was the time the Weasley's had arranged a one-time floo from the Malfoys' that would lock automatically behind her when she arrived. The two families might have disagreed on many things, but Lucius and Arthur found common ground in that the headmaster's daughter should be out of the manor and at the burrow with as little communication between the two households as magically possible.

Anastasia, who had never been to the Weasley's house before, looked around the room. Crocheted blankets, pillows, and crafts littered the sofa, walls and floor. A pair of knitting needles hovered over a rocking chair, creating even more of these plush artifacts, and the kettle on the stove in the connected kitchen whistled merrily. She had worn her plum robes, one of the ones Narcissa bought for her, and she felt instantly out of place again.

While the house was cozy and comfortable, the strangest thing was that there was no Weasley there to greet her. Only Hermione, staring wide-eyed across the room at her.

"You're here?" her best friend stated in near surprise.

"Of course, I am! I didn't know you would be though. How'd you get a ticket?" she ran across the room and opened her arms to embrace her friend, but Hermione stepped back, guarded.

"I took Penelope's. She couldn't go. What are you wearing?" she asked.

"Um…my robes…" Anastasia said awkwardly, dropping her arms and folding her hands, "Narcissa got them for me."

Anastasia watched as a wary red head peeked out from around the corner, Ron, and then jetted back.

"What's going on?" Anastasia asked.

"Have you not read the paper this morning?" Hermione asked.

"I um…would have but Narcissa said there was an interruption in service…" Anastasia trailed off, now understanding. "Where is it?"

Hermione led her from the den into the kitchen where the rest of the Weasley's waited. Copper pots and pans hung down from the ceiling, glinting in the waning sunlight. Herbs sprouted from pots on the windowsill.

Molly stared at her strangely. The twins glanced up in surprise. Ron glared at her from his spot. Ginny refused to make eye contact. Bill smiled nervously, leaning against the side of a large clock with spoons for arms.

"Great, you're here," Ron said disgruntledly. Anastasia looked back at Hermione's wary expression and to the family.

"Um…" she started, unsure of how to respond to an even worse welcome than what she received at the Malfoys.

"We weren't sure if you were still coming," Arthur explained kindly. He wore the least perturbed face in the room.

"I'm sorry about last night," she began, unsure of why she was the one apologizing. "But you knew I was staying with them, why is it so surprising that I would be hanging out with—"

"It's not even that!" Ginny started. Anastasia flinched.

"She doesn't know," said Fred with a tone that something awful had happened.

"Told you she wouldn't know!" said George smirkingly, "fork it over." He waved his hands at the two youngest siblings and Ron and Ginny each relinquished a handful of bronze knuts.

"Know what?" she asked.

Ron threw a copy of the Daily Prophet at the end of the table which unrolled to the centerfold.

Dumbledore's Rebellion by Rita Skeeter.

The article was marked by pictures of her at the salon with Narcissa through the window and one of her at the restaurant the previous evening. Anastasia gaped. She hadn't even seen Skeeter, or anyone with a camera. The caption underneath read:

Anastasia Dumbledore seen dining at Penumbra Pallateius, a known pureblood-only restaurant in Diagon Alley

The article described Anastasia appearing at several businesses where muggleborn witches and wizards were often deterred or prevented from entering by dark enchantments, including the salon and a dress shop.

"The events in question bring into light the simmering tension between the young pureblood heiress and her father's teachings of blood equality."

Anastasia gaped. Her stomach rolled. Surely her father and Minerva had seen this that morning. Surely Narcissa had seen it and hid the paper from her on purpose. How she hated Rita Skeeter with all the magical power in her body. She could only be thankful it wasn't a picture of her and Draco kissing spattered over the UK-wide publication.

"I didn't know about the places she was taking me, honest!" she said, but she didn't know how to convince them. "I would have never gone to those places if I had known the truth. I would have stayed at the house."

Though she pleaded, their faces remained doubtful.

She worried about what her father and Minerva thought of her now, and how she hadn't yet received a howler, but thought one might zoom in from the windows at any second.

Albus was the one who convinced her to go…this had to be what he wanted, didn't he? Or maybe, he simply didn't know what Narcissa would lead her into.

The twins looked at each other, only half convinced by her answer, and Ron scoffed and turned away. Hermione stared at her without words.

"Anastasia, you should be more careful around that woman," Molly insisted darkly, "She's more conniving than you think."

Anastasia's stomach twisted into knots as Sirius Black's words echoed in her head.

"It's not like Cissa planned that from the beginning…to tie her son to the daughter of the most powerful wizard alive."

Under her godmother's watch, she had felt so trusted and so grown up. Narcissa had taken care of her so well, but to what end? Was it simply to manipulate her? She couldn't tell, and it left her sick in the stomach.

"Sorry to interrupt," Arthur piped up, "we need to go get Harry from the Dursleys. Boys, are you coming?"

Ron and the twins left with Arthur.

"You're staying in my room," Ginny said curtly, and pointed vaguely up the stairs. Anastasia nodded and wandered up the staircase to the only room that could have been for a girl. Though it was covered in quidditch posters, it was neat and orderly, with only a few cardigans lying here and there. She set her bag down next to one of the two cots on the floor.

Capitalizing on her moment alone, Anastasia thrust off the plum robes and rummaged through her bag to find her colorful striped shirt and navy overall dress to layer over it. Flinging these over her head and pulling on her plain knit socks and mary janes, she finally felt like herself again—like she could meld into the Weasley's home without disrupting its warm cozy interior, like she could scourge the atmosphere of pureblood elitism from her body, like she could forget the last two weeks ever happened.

But the latter was impossible. They had happened. And her face was all over the newspaper as a blood purist, and her friends thought she was a traitor, and she was Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Of course, her friends didn't entirely know about that last part yet, but it wouldn't take long for them to find out. And then, what would keep them from abandoning her completely? Her worst fear, and she had instigated it.

Curious about the rest of the rooms, Anastasia journeyed upward to see how far the tower took her. She had some time before dinner and believed that neither Ginny nor Molly wanted her help.

She found the last room in the tower open, and a familiar graduate prefect at his desk, writing frivolously as a spoon rotated in the empty cauldron next to him. She knocked and took a step in.

"Hi Percy," she said quietly. He grunted but didn't answer.

"How's Penelope?" Anastasia asked, trying to be nonchalant in checking his friendliness towards her, but her fingers twisted together nervously.

Percy froze and looked over his shoulder with a glare. Anastasia took a step back.

"You know?" he asked.

"Know what?" she asked, but he didn't seem to hear her correctly. Percy shot up from his desk and slammed the door behind her, looking this way and that. Anastasia stiffened frightenedly.

"Of course, I know, Anastasia, but more importantly, how do you know? Merlin, we shouldn't have trusted that witch—"

The way he said that witch, made her know exactly who he was talking about as he paced his incredibly small bedroom.

"You mean, Narcissa?"

"No, no, this isn't good," he rambled. "I can't have this kind of thing getting out at the Ministry."

Anastasia stared at Percy and remembered his nervousness from the day at the concert.

"Narcissa was with Penelope that day, wasn't she?" Anastasia asked. "That's why you didn't want to be there."

Percy paused, realizing that in his paranoia he had revealed his own secret.

"Is she?" Anastasia started. Percy sighed and pulled a hand through his curly hair.

"Not anymore."

Anastasia nodded, "I'm sorry."

"It's what we wanted," he explained. "Look, Stasia, you're going to have to keep your mouth shut about this. Completely. Tell no one. The truth is, if anyone from the Ministry heard I was involved in this sort of thing, I would lose my job. My family would disown me…and we don't even have anything to be disowned from other than each other."

Anastasia gave him a pained look. She already felt the flames of the Weasleys' disapproval and couldn't imagine it coming from one's own family of origin.

"I won't tell anyone, promise," she said, raising her hand in oath. "I was genuinely concerned."

Percy relaxed a bit, frowning in concern.

"Well, she's fine, thank you for asking…thanks to the midwitch. Are you training under her?"

Anastasia shrugged.

"I only shadowed for a day. I thought it was interesting, but I'm not sure if I plan on doing it again. It was intense."

Percy nodded.

"Merlin knows it's needed…I'm sorry about the way my family is acting by the way. It was obvious that you two would get together at some point."

"It was obvious?" Anastasia asked, blushing. Percy nodded, cracking a smirk for the first time in their conversation.

"You don't know how many times I ran into Malfoy while I was visiting Penelope during the whole petrification ordeal. Besides, being who you are, it only makes sense."

"Being who I am?" she pushed. He raised an eyebrow.

"One of the most powerful pureblood heirs of a century?"

Anastasia looked down at her shoes. Draco liked her for more than her bloodline, she knew that by the way he looked at her, by the way he held her, by the way he grabbed her out of the way to protect her, but on the surface, it probably did seem more like a convenient avenue for the Malfoys to gain influence.

"Don't worry about them," Percy said, referring to his family. "They'll get over it and move on. Even Fred. Although they'll probably tease you for however long the two of you are together."

Before she could ask why he said "even Fred" the whooshing sound of the floo sounded, and she ran downstairs to greet Harry before dinner.

She caught Harry in an embrace, hoping to explain herself for the article before the Weasleys could tell him, but the Weasley's were in a heated argument related to what Fred and George were laughing about.

"It's not funny, Fred! The boy is a muggle!" Arthur protested.

"He deserved it for being a bully," Fred insisted. Anastasia stared at him in a half-disapproving smirk. His eyes darted away from her. She could tell from Mr. Weasley's tone that Fred had done something unexpected to Harry's cousin while they were visiting the Dursleys.

"You should have seen his tongue!" George exclaimed. "It was nearly four feet long!"

And even Anastasia had to laugh at Dudley's expense.

The family ate dinner on the lawn in the warm summer evening, as fireflies floated around them, unbothered by the useless happenings of wizarding society. As Anastasia sat at the end of the table, next to Percy who rambled nervously to his father about his cauldron specification paper and across from the twins who glanced each other mischievously, she wished she could be as carefree as the neon insects around them.

The rest of the family had not spoken directly to her since Harry arrived, finding him a much more welcome houseguest. Ron had been sure to fill Harry in about Skeeter's article so The Boy Who Lived could feel the same vitriol that the rest of the family did towards her, and now he was glancing at her critically, every few minutes. Hermione had taken a seat away from her, next to Ginny, and while the Weasley girl whispered quietly, Hermione said nothing, only smiling and nodding at times.

Anastasia took a bite of her roast, but instead of meat her teeth collided with a sweet and chewy mound. She made an awful face, trying her hardest to spit it out. When she succeeded her tongue began growing, longer and longer until it was two feet long and had yellow and purple stripes.

Fred and George cackled at her. Molly immediately hid her smile. Ginny and Ron snickered merrily along with Harry and the twins received the warning of "boys!" from Arthur.

Only Hermione's mouth fell open in disgust at the twins' prank.

Anastasia's face flushed a deep red. Kindly enough, Bill cast the countercurse. Percy scolded his brothers, but only received a mocking for being "such-a-goody-two-shoes" in return. Anastasia rose from the table and ran further into the field that surrounded The Burrow, Hermione running shortly behind her.

The moist grass came up to their shins, and the air around them quieted aside from the sound of crickets. Hermione stopped a few feet behind Anastasia, and Anastasia felt her tongue shrink back into its original positioning and size.

She could speak again, and she knew the next words had to count.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that all the places she took me were run by blood purists. I didn't think about it hard enough," Anastasia admitted. "It was too good to be true, but I didn't want the time to end. I didn't want to say no to someone who cares for me so much."

Hermione stared on critically.

"The bigger truth is—" Anastasia didn't realize this part would be so difficult to admit to Hermione's face. "The truth is Draco and I are dating…officially…and I care about him…and I understand if that makes you not want to be my friend anymore."

Anastasia peeked over her shoulder to see her friend staring at her strangely. Hermione looked a bit ill but took a step towards her.

"We always knew it was a possibility, didn't we?" she asked. "From the moment you found out about the lifeline, even before then, you were connected."

Anastasia felt so much shame in the moment, she almost wanted to take the entire two weeks back…almost.

"We'll just have to see…" Hermione began, "if you really are Malfoy's better half, maybe you'll be a positive influence."

Anastasia smiled weakly. Hermione collected her in a hug, a warm, sweet embrace that replenished her strength, so much that small, grateful tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes.

"Thank you…" she said "…for not immediately hating me."

"Well, maybe not immediately," Hermione said in a cheerful jibe, and then pulled away. "How can I be angry with my best friend for liking someone she's magically entwined with?"

Anastasia breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione's comment still stung.

"Draco cares for me…" she vouched. And when Hermione did not respond, smiling in silent disbelief, Anastasia added something to make her laugh. "…and he's a good kisser."

Hermione scoffed. "How many times?"

"It's really about how long…" Anastasia emphasized jokingly.

And the two best friends walked back to the dinner table, linked arm-in-arm.