Chapter 13) A Shame

Selected Listening: Swallowed in the Sea- Coldplay

Author's Note: Hello, folks. I'm having trouble with the stats feature again, and it's not letting me see how many people are reading. That means it's super important to hit that Fav and Follow button so I know you're there. :D

In other news, it is a solemn day. Rest in Peace, Michael Gambon. Thank you for your inspiration.


Once again, the girls awoke in the dark of early morning. Arthur spoke quickly through the canvas door.

"Girls, I got us a portkey for 7 AM. Gather your things, and we'll go."

They did as they were told, weary and sad, on only three hours of tumultuous sleep full of nightmares of fire, smoke, and skulls. The girls emerged from the tent and grumbled directions at each other to disassemble it the muggle way. Arthur stopped them and waved his wand to pack the entire campsite in one spell. They supposed there was not much point in hiding anymore. One of the muggle groundskeepers passed, muttering disorientedly about Christmas. The group gawked bewilderedly at each other despite Arthur's reassurances that he would be alright.

Once the tents had been packed, they trekked across the fields, passing other tents—some half-burnt—and families hurrying to pack and leave. Anastasia looked around for Draco but did not see him. Finally, they walked beyond the bounds of the campsite, back into the fields, and into the grassy dew-tipped knolls. Their portkey, this time, was a rumpled bit of newspaper. The Diggory's had already left. They took hold of it and landed in the Weasley's backyard.

When they ran to the door of the Burrow, they saw Mrs. Weasley in the doorway, arms outstretched, but another woman appeared behind her, just as worried, with a brunette bun stacked high on her head and square glasses resting on her cheeks.

"Minnie!" Anastasia yelled, overjoyed to see the woman running back at her with open arms.

"Anastasia," Minerva gasped as the girl closed the distance in a tight hug. "Good gracious, child! What happened? Were you there? What did you see? What happened to your hair?"

"It was the dark mark…and they tortured three muggles…and I—" and she thought one of them was Lucius Malfoy, but she felt she couldn't say that out loud. "Narcissa let me cut it."

"Come inside, all of you, I'll fix some butterbeer," rushed Molly.

But Molly was so shaken, Hermione ended up making tea for everyone instead, which Mr. Weasley readily poured fire whisky into for the adults. Minerva had brought Anastasia's barn owl, Crenshaw, in his cage, and he hooted merrily by the window, happy to observe scenery outside the castle.

Molly showed them the paper. Rita Skeeter had once again thrown things into chaos with her careless choice of words, claiming bodies were dragged from the forest and Mr. Weasley didn't have a word to say about it.

"I hate that woman!" Anastasia yelled. "She never tells the real truth."

"How do you think I feel?" Minerva asked, scoffing. "Last year, Skeeter implying I had relations with Albus? That man's never had romantic feelings for a woman in one hundred and thirteen years of his life!"

Anastasia smirked. She didn't quite understand her father's romantic pursuits, but she had heard enough side comments by that point to understand that witches weren't his thing…but apparently neither were wizards, because she'd never seen him date a single person.

Still, even though the article had been insulting, Anastasia appreciated the implication that Minerva was her real mother.

After they reiterated what all had happened the previous night and the Weasley family and friends had cleared the room, Anastasia watched her caretaker. The woman held a mug of coffee and fire whisky, sipping from it every few moments. Anastasia found her admission of guilt falling out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry about what came out in the papers, I didn't know Narcissa was bringing me to all non-muggleborn places. And I'm sorry about whatever she said to you in the store the other day. And…and…"

So much happened, and she couldn't even find the words to express it all.

"My dear girl," Minerva touched the side of her face, her hazel eyes glowing. "I'm happy you are alright. That is all that matters. There is nothing to forgive. You didn't have any say in it, and I'm furious with Albus for making you go in the first place."

Minerva hugged Anastasia tight against her side.

"She still hasn't said one thing…" George drawled as if he were trying to get her in trouble. The twins lingered at the door to the kitchen unabashedly. Anastasia glared.

"What is it?" Minerva asked. Anastasia hesitated…she knew she would find out at some point.

"Should we tell her, George?" Fred asked.

"I think we should—" George started, but Minerva held up a hand.

"Thank you, Weasleys, but I believe Anastasia is capable of speaking for herself."

"I-I'm dating someone…" she started sheepishly, although she knew it was silly to leave off the name. "Draco Malfoy."

Anastasia winced, waiting for her reaction, but there was not a blow-up of any sort. Just a long sigh, and a cringe of Minerva's own as she took in the information and nodded slowly with a buttoned lip. She took another sip of the whisky-laced tea.

"You should have seen it, Professor," George said with a grin. "He kissed her right in front of his dad when Ireland won. You should have seen the look on Lucius Malfoy's face."

"George!" Anastasia hissed. She was about to yell at Fred too, but he wasn't looking her direction, with his arms crossed and a glare solidified at a crocheted piece on the wall. She never knew what to think of his reactions.

But Minerva wasn't angry. She smiled a pained smile.

"Very well," she said calmly, and patted the girl's hand.

"What?" Anastasia asked. She had expected the worst.

"What?" asked Fred. "Shouldn't she be grounded or something?"

"How many points off for dating a Slytherin arse?" George chimed.

"Would you two be quiet, or find something else to do with your time?" Minerva asked. "I don't see you two dating anyone, and yet you'll give others the hardest time."

The two shrunk back and walked around the corner whistling a bar tune.

Anastasia stared again at Minerva.

"Thank you, but why aren't you mad?"

"If I were angry at you for following your heart, for falling for the boy…well, I'd be no better than Mr. Malfoy, would I? Besides, we both know there are extenuating circumstances."

Anastasia smiled her own pained smile. She meant the lifeline.

"Well, I don't know how I feel right now…said some pretty nasty things last night. I don't know what he was thinking," Anastasia explained. She felt comfortable asking Minerva about these matters, as the professor had her share of romances before she settled on her vocation.

"Did you expect anything different?" Minerva asked with a perched eyebrow.

"He agreed to not do that anymore," she clarified. Minerva only rolled her eyes.

"You can't change or fix the boy, Anastasia. Don't be confused about that. Too many girls your age—too many women even—have fallen into that trap. Either accept who he is or move on."

"Right," Anastasia said, unsure if she could do either. "He cares for me…that, I'm certain of."

Minerva took a lock of Anastasia's now-silky hair and smoothed it down.

"As it should be."

The woman kissed her on the temple and prepared to go, saying goodbye to Molly and Arthur before departing through the floo.

"Thought for sure it'd be at least fifty points…" George commented.

Fred stared after Anastasia sadly.


After Minerva departed, Anastasia grabbed Crenshaw's cage and headed upstairs to store him in Ginny's room. She met the others in Ron's.

"—and that's when Wormtail escaped." Harry finished.

"What's going on?" she asked worriedly. Hermione reexplained.

"Harry said he had a nightmare before the tournament…Wormtail and someone else plotting to kill."

Anastasia's expression darkened. She wouldn't be surprised if the cowardly servant of Voldemort was involved in this. He had alluded to bringing back his master, and it seemed the events were all following suit.

"Who did he want to kill?" Anastasia asked. Harry faltered awkwardly in an obvious lie.

"Not sure. Someone."

Ron asked him why he was looking for Hedwig. Harry was waiting for a letter from Sirius. Out of all their sources of information, Sirius Black was the one most willing to give it. Many of the adults had information but didn't want to scare them with it. Sirius didn't care how blunt he was with children. Like Moody, he'd rather they be prepared. Anastasia appreciated that.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go play quidditch," Ron offered. "You want to come, Stasia?"

She shook her head. She didn't feel like flying.

"Harry doesn't feel like flying either," Hermione stated, but Harry walked off with Ron, happy for the distraction. The girls were left alone.

"I need to owl someone," Anastasia said.

"Someone?" Hermione asked annoyedly.

"Draco," she confirmed and headed back to Ginny's room to grab her parchment. She spent some time with Crenshaw before beginning to write, stroking the barn owl's feathers and whispering soothing words.

"I'm sorry I left you. I should have taken you with me," she said.

If she had brought Crenshaw, she might have owled Albus or Minerva or Hermione about anything that was going on. They might have warned her about the places Narcissa was taking her. But she had forgotten to prepare her owl in the stress of going to the Malfoy's. Now she overstuffed Crenshaw with treats as he nuzzled her hand.

She let the owl's stomach settle as she wrote her letter.

Dear Draco,

How are you? I hope you've gotten home alright. I'm sorry for leaving you last night. Please write back soon.

She paused on the salutation but decided to skip it.

Anastasia

She rolled it up, tied it with an old hair ribbon, and gave it to Crenshaw. He saw the name and flew away out the window, towards the East.