Chapter 25) A Gift

Selected Listening: Ain't It Fun?- Paramore

Anastasia sat at her usual table in the corner of the kitchens for the longest time, while Dobby explained more about his Hogwarts employment to the rest of the group. It wouldn't have done her any good to listen. A tinny ring vibrated through her ears after what Dobby said. She couldn't believe it was true. Narcissa wouldn't have made Lucius murder her best friend's husband on purpose…she wouldn't have gone that far.

Anastasia imagined Holly and Francis Sinclair surviving the war together, having other children, being happy. Grandad alone. She never existed.

She wasn't supposed to exist.

"Miss, please, have some tea. You should drink something." Winky, the little drunk elf, stumbled up to her, almost dropping the cup of breakfast tea she held as she listed to the side. Anastasia took it thankfully and set it on the table.

"Thank you, Winky," she said kindly.

"Dobby is a bad elf. He should not have said those things about his former masters."

"Yes, well, even though they hurt. I'm glad he told me the truth."

"No, he should not have done that. It is elves' jobs to keep the masters' secrets. If the former elf told Dobby it must have been important," Winky finished, hiccupping.

Anastasia nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm grateful all the same."

If what Dobby said was the truth, Mr. Malfoy's reaction to Narcissa bringing her to their house made complete sense. Not only did he believe her an unworthy match for his son, but she represented the only thing he regretted about being a death eater—getting caught.

When Dobby was done talking to the others, he wandered back to her.

"Dobby is sorry if Dobby shocked Miss Anastasia Dumbledore," he said, wincing as if waiting for a punishment. Anastasia bent down and took his small hands in hers.

"Thank-you," she said. "I needed to know…maybe not so suddenly…"

The little elf winced guiltily. She placed a light hand on his shoulder.

"Dobby, what happened to the former elf of the Malfoys? The one who told you all this?" Anastasia asked. Dobby's eyes glittered as his mouth grew small and sad.

"Tilly died of very old age. 107. Tilly told Dobby this on her death bed. Tilly was third generation Malfoy elf."

So, Anastasia couldn't go directly to the source. She nodded in acceptance. Harry walked up to her slowly.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Anastasia laughed bitterly as she stood from her chair. "I suppose you're the lucky one. At least your godparent didn't manipulate your parents into having you."

Harry hugged her tightly around her shoulders.

"Maybe…we're both very unlucky in different ways."

Anastasia suffered through the rest of the week, wondering whether she planned to tell Draco about what she discovered. She went through the motions. When she and Draco were having their usual post-defense snog session in the closet, he sensed her reluctance.

He paused and pulled away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hands still glued to her waist. "You seem kind of distracted."

Anastasia shook her head.

"I'm…I'm fine…" she said. "A little out of it."

"We can stop if you want," he suggested.

She shook her head with a small smile.

"Shut up and kiss me."

And he obliged with a grin.

Anastasia wasn't sure how much Draco knew about Narcissa's experiments. She had a feeling Narcissa never needed to tell her son those stories in full. Telling Draco what Dobby said, at minimum would confuse him, and at most would enrage him…and might end their relationship then and there.

She didn't want it to end.

On another day, as they were walking across the grounds alongside the Black Lake, Anastasia plucked up the courage to ask—

"Remember how Moody was taunting us at the beginning of the year? And he used the imperious curse to make the spider dance on your head?" she asked casually.

"Yeah," Draco asked, looking at her suspiciously as they swung their interlinked hands between them. "Why?"

"I was wondering…because you were really freaked out by that. What happened with your dad in that trial?"

Wrong button. Draco snapped, jerking his hand away.

"A lot of people would be freaked out by a spider dancing on their heads! And if you must know, my father was controlled by Voldemort to kill some resistance bloke. I thought you knew already."

"Oh," Anastasia said dumbly. So not only did Draco have no clue that his mother might have performed the imperious curse, he firmly believed that his father was controlled into doing Voldemort's bidding.

"Why do you care?" he asked brusquely as they continued walking near the water.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up…" she thought of a quick excuse, "…I only wanted to know why he hates me so much. I'm pureblood and all…why not leave us alone?"

Draco sighed nervously.

"The sacred twenty-eight," Draco answered finally, drawing his hair back with his fingers.

"I'm sorry?" she asked hesitantly. He took a deep breath, seemingly having held this back for a while.

"There are twenty-eight verified pureblood family lines. Yours, although noble and seemingly pureblood throughout, are not verified. Verification a long, grueling process, which is rarely successful, and without it…" he paused, blushing.

"What?"

"If we were to marry, my family would be knocked out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. No questions asked."

Anastasia was now blushing back, looking at her shoes in the grass instead of at him.

"That's why my housemates aren't convinced we'll last long. They're waiting for me to realize that this is a waste of time or my father to threaten my inheritance. They can't wait to laugh and say, told you so, Malfoy. Pansy would have a field day," he said point-blank.

Now Anastasia understood. Pansy's family was part of the Sacred Twenty-whatever. She remembered the conversation between the girl and Draco the previous year in the library. Pansy tried to force him on a date with her.

"Twenty-seven isn't very many. Wouldn't you eventually—"

"Run out of options? Converge all the bloodlines? Inbreeding? Yes, and that's already started. That's why my mother is alright with us dating, despite the status change. It's healthier, and she's the healer to know."

She's the healer to know, Anastasia thought. She's alright with it because she did this to them on purpose. She's alright with it because she made her for him.

He must have seen the hope fade from Anastasia's eyes, because he grabbed her hand tightly.

"Well, the joke's on them. We're already tied together for eternity, and I'm not breaking up with you because of some silly old rules."

She smiled sadly, turned and grabbed his other hand. Neither of his parents' choices were his fault. No matter why they were together, or how they became intertwined, she still lo—

But instead of finishing that thought, she kissed him fiercely.

Anastasia suffered through the rest of the week with a horrible stomachache. It started on her right side and went all the way through to her back. At first, she wondered if it was remnant pain from her injury earlier the semester. Maybe she had strained herself too much while flying with Draco the other day. She pushed through the pain and tried to ignore it, going to classes as normal.

On Friday, Minerva announced to the house that they would be having a dance, The Yule Ball, to celebrate the interschool cooperation of the Triwizard tournaments. Students were expected to bring dates, wear formal robes, and to dance. They would have their first dance lesson the following day.

By Saturday morning, the pain in her side was so horrible, she could barely eat breakfast. The last thing Anastasia wanted to do was dance.

"Did you eat something weird, lately?" she asked Draco before the Gryffindors went to the Transfiguration room for their lesson. "My side has been killing me."

"No, I was going to ask you the same…" he drawled off, side-eyeing her.

Hermione came up and looped her arm through Anastasia's.

"Come on, let's go!" she nearly sang and pulled her away.

"Good luck with McGonagall," Draco called after her.

"Good luck with Snape!" she winked teasingly and let herself be dragged to the lesson.

It was an embarrassing affair. Poor Ron was called to be Minnie's example, and his twin brothers mocked him mercilessly as he was forced to dance with the professor to demonstrate Anastasia and Hermione hid their giggles behind their hands.

"Alright, now partner up," the professor suggested. Anastasia watched as her entire class found friends to dance with. Harry grabbed Hermione. George asked Katie Bell. She saw Fred dancing with Angelina.

She didn't know why, but watching them fumble together made her a bit melancholy.

All her preferred options taken, she gazed around to see Ron still searching. As she stepped towards him, a pair of arms came around her waist from behind her with a cardigan, tying the sleeves tightly around her waist.

"You should go to the infirmary," Lavender Brown whispered kindly.

"What?"

"Your period."

"Oh," Anastasia gasped, and Lavender squeezed her arm in a comforting, reassuring way before stepping in to save Ron from Minerva's demonstrations.

Anastasia was later than most of her peers. In fact, she might have been the last fourth year to receive her monthly gift, as the others had gotten theirs in the years prior. Thankful for Lavender's quick intervention, she spoke to Madam Pomfrey who taught her the necessary spells for hygiene and gave her a small potion for her cramps with instant results.

"Anastasia!" Minerva met her at the door of the Great Hall around lunchtime.

"Oh! Sorry, I had to leave early. Minnie…you see—"

Minerva waved it off.

"Miss Brown already told me. I'm certain one of the others can teach you the steps later."

"Right," Anastasia smiled nervously. She wasn't all that certain about her dancing abilities. She never tried before.

"No, I wanted to catch you before you went off for the afternoon. I was wondering if you'd like to go shopping for your formal robes."

"Oh…I um…I already have some that Narcissa bought me."

A cross expression danced across Minerva's face.

"Those were from that pureblood shop? Weren't they? No, you needn't wear those. Let's buy you a guilt-free gown, ey?"

Anastasia grinned, and the two women, young and not so young, set off together down the path to Hogsmeade. She told Minerva her worries about Rita showing up, and Minerva told her that if Rita came anywhere close to them, she'd fight her off.

At the Mulkins Boutique, Anastasia began searching through the gowns.

"Now, you'll have to wear something red or gold, I think."

"Why?" Anastasia asked.

"To represent Gryffindor of course."

"But do I have to?"

Anastasia searched through many, but Minerva kept handing her red or gold ones to try on. She didn't like the red ones. They made her feel too grown up.

Finally, she tried on a gold strapless number, with a bodice top, and gold stars dangling from ties around her arms. The skirt flared out in A-line trails of glitter around her. Pleased by the effect, she opened the dressing room door to show Minerva.

"You're beautiful!" she gasped and twittered before collecting her in an embrace. An embrace that made her feel like she had a real mother.

When the professor pulled away she smiled cheekily, "Malfoy won't know what hit him."

"Minnie!" Anastasia groaned.

The next morning at breakfast while reading The Daily Prophet, Anastasia noticed a new advert in the bottom corner of one of the back pages.

Full-Service Midwitch

Pregnancy Management

Pre/Postnatal and Maternal Health

Genetic Assessment and Fertility

Anastasia frowned. She could almost be certain it was referring to Narcissa's work. Who else could analyze a full wizarding genome? But it didn't state her name.

"Hermione, have you seen this?" she asked and pointed to the advert across the table.

"It's been there since June…why are you asking—"

Ron interrupted.

"What I don't understand is how someone could afford advertising cheesy old soaps and candles in The Daily Prophet, when any witch or wizard with talent can make them at home. Mum does it all the time," Ron said simply. The girls looked at each other meaningfully.

"Must be really nice soap," Harry commented, also peeking.

Until the previous day, all Anastasia had seen was an advert for soaps and candles too.

"Must be," she shrugged, and the girls went about their business, smirking knowingly.

Later that day, Anastasia received an owl at lunchtime.

My office. Now.

Prof. Snape

Anastasia looked around at her friends, miserable. Hermione peeked over her shoulder and grimaced.

"Maybe he's given you detention for the snarky one-off the other day."

"I'd hope not!" she exclaimed. Usually, some advance notice was required for detention. All she said was that if she needed his opinion on her drowsiness draught, she would ask for it. Snape had glared but said nothing.

She sulked down to the dungeons, reached Snape's door, and rapped on the wood.

It opened immediately to Snape's stark expression.

"In." he said and pushed the door aside for her to enter.

From behind one of the armchairs near the fire, Anastasia spotted the crossed legs of a woman covered by a long black robe, hem covering the edge of her pointy boots. Pale hands held a teacup in her lap.

Anastasia came around to face her godmother. She had many questions including Did you really imperio Mr. Malfoy into killing my mother's husband? and Was all that effort only so I could be romantically involved with your son?

But all that came out was a soft, "Hello."

The two women stared at each other without words. Narcissa's lips rested in a neutral line, assessing, her dark eyes, analyzing.

"You have her. Now out." Snape directed at Narcissa.

"Come, Severus. I thought we were having a perfectly pleasant conversation," she smirked as she put her tea down and gracefully stood. Snape rolled his eyes like a petulant child.

She looked down at Anastasia adoringly, apologetically.

"Hello, dear."

"Why are you—"

"I've come to make up the summer to you. Like I said in my letter, I did not intend for you to be lambasted in the Prophet like that. I simply wanted to treat you to a good time and some new clothes."

"Right well…I have all the clothes I need—"

"Wrong. You need a dress for the Yule Ball. The formal ones I bought you before were from a pureblood shop…I have an alternative. Consider it an apology. A gift."

"Oh…" Anastasia said, surprised Narcissa bothered to respect her wishes. She swallowed. She wasn't prepared to tell her indulgent godmother she had already picked something else out. In fact, this would be the perfect time to bring up the question she really wanted to ask…somehow. "Like what?"

"You'll see," she said slyly.

Snape scoffed and returned to his work. Narcissa scooped a handful of floo from the iron dish on the mantle and nodded at Anastasia to do the same.

"Now," she said, stepping into the fireplace, "Zabini Enterprises."

When Narcissa had vanished into the emerald fire, she followed her into the hearth, sharing one last uncertain glance with the professor. Snape shook his head, unable to contemplate the superficial whims of women, such as fashion. But Anastasia placed little stock in the judgement of a man who hadn't changed his robes in a decade.

"Zabini Enterprises," she said and disappeared into the flames.