Chapter 31) Boxing Day
Selected Listening: Stubborn Love- The Lumineers
By the time the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw left, Anastasia didn't feel like crying anymore. She had managed to give herself a headache, a stomachache, and a heartache all at the same time.
The soft sound of men's shoes sifted in the hallway. Anastasia perked her head up, wheeling around. But when she looked through the castle windows into the corridor, no one was there.
Anastasia remembered what Helena said about someone doing dark magic. She crept slowly back towards the corridors, looking back and forth, wand drawn to make sure no one surprised her.
When she reached the entryway, she thought she saw a shadow move. She jumped around the column, but no one was there.
Anastasia kept searching and soon came across an alcove with a symmetrical, tiled six-petaled flower embedded in the floor. Pillared candles lined the room, half used, alongside ink bottles. Striations of ink swirled across the tiled floor in a distinct pattern, much like a magic circle in alchemy.
Anastasia knelt down to examine the pattern. In the center lay a bat, its entrails pulled out and spilled to both sides.
And she realized the ink was not ink at all…but blood.
"Ack!" Anastasia jumped back, covering her mouth with her arm. Tears reached her eyes in sympathy for the small beast.
A heavy footfall in the distance made her jump. Someone was hiding.
She ran all the way to the headmaster's suite. She exited her room into the den, where her father sat by the fire, knitting.
"Anastasia?" Albus said kindly, "I wondered where you'd gone. I thought you'd be here all day." He left the implied 'after what happened in the Great Hall' for her to bring up.
Anastasia gazed around her home and realized how much she'd missed it. The cozy armchairs, the rugs, the knickknacks on the fireplace, all the bookshelves. She stared at him forlornly.
"Grandad, someone's been doing dark magic in the abandoned wing of the castle. There are candles and blood everywhere and a bat corpse."
Albus's eyebrows raised.
"Then we should go," he said and cast his project aside to knit itself for a while.
But when they arrived at the same alcove at the back part of the castle, everything was gone.
"I don't understand. It was all right here. Helena!" she yelled "Helena!"
But the ghost didn't care to greet them. Anastasia turned to her father in distress.
"It was here. I swear, and I know the Durmstrang students and the Slytherins have been up to something, but I don't know what," she clarified.
"This is very serious…" he examined the space. "Though I can't accuse anyone now, I will make sure to remind everyone that dark magic in the castle is prohibited, and anyone caught doing it will be escorted off campus immediately."
Anastasia froze.
"Are you worried, my dear?" Albus asked, his eyes calm. He assumed Draco was involved. How else could she have known? "I wouldn't be. I imagine that after the shock of today's events, Malfoy would be giving up his share of this little organization."
She stared at him, unable to answer, and instead asked a question.
"Grandad, what's the difference? Between dark magic and regular magic."
Albus paused, looking out at the snowy courtyard just beyond the corridor, remembering.
"Some would have us think that there is no difference. That dark magic was simply labeled because a group of people didn't like it as much as the normal way of wands and potions. But now that you've seen the remains of dark magic, you must realize it has a detriment…what do you think it is?" he asked, turning toward her.
She looked down at her shoes, down at the floor where the bat once was, and then up again at Albus. His calm wrinkled face waited for her conjecture.
"When I see it…I feel bad around it, but I couldn't tell you why."
Albus paced around the circle and knelt down. He waved his wand over the center of the design, and an image of the bat came into view, an angry hand stabbing a knife into its chest, its head wrenching in a strained cry.
Anastasia looked away. Albus continued examining the spot.
"Traditional magic uses a witch or wizard's energy as the source. Alchemy uses a balance of magical energy and personal sacrifice. Dark Magic uses the sacrifice of others without their consent, and that is why it is wrong."
He cast another spell, and the spot where the bat had been glowed white for a moment.
"This should keep them at bay for a time. They will have to re-condition the area for the type of magic they want to practice."
Anastasia stared at the ground, lost. As much as she was angry with Draco, she worried for him and what he was getting into.
"My dear, tell me truly. Are you alright?" Albus asked as he stood, not referring to the dark magic.
Anastasia shook her head solemnly, and although she had already cried the last of her tears, he approached her with tears in his own eyes, hugging her tight against his velvet robes.
"It hurts when those we love don't make the same choices we would," he said his usual wise line, but there was a crack in his voice.
Anastasia spent the rest of the day holed up in Gryffindor tower with her friends. Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins all crowded around the largest coffee table by the fire for an exploding snap tournament. The twins kept a large box of sweets nearby, which they would occasionally threaten to make the loser eat the entirety of at once for testing purposes. Anastasia rolled her eyes at them, but also kept her game sharp to not be pressured into more pranking hijinks.
Even though Lavender Brown and Romilda Vane had received the Witch Weekly article and came through to bother her about it, her friends had been kind enough to tell them to bugger off and didn't even bother looking at the article.
It was early evening when a knock came at the tower. The friends looked at each other, thinking someone had sent an invite to a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff student, but the knock came again.
Anastasia had a feeling who it was. She kept herself glued to the rug beneath her.
"I'll get it," Ginny offered, jumped up and went to the door.
"I'm here to see Anastasia," the familiar voice echoed back to her. Anastasia glanced up once to see Draco, rising up on his toes to see into the porthole. She immediately fixed her focus on the pale green and orange cards lying on the table. If Draco was really part of the killing of small animals for some horrible scheme, she absolutely didn't want to talk to him.
"Looks like you've already seen her," Ginny jibed. Draco must have read the article. Anastasia brought her knees up to her chin and buried her face. "And she certainly doesn't want to see you right now, so stay out of it."
"It's important," he said. Anastasia heard the grunt of him trying to push past Ginny, followed by the raining crack of a stupefy, the pain buckling into her own stomach. She hugged her knees tighter to her chest to hide her reaction. Hermione's comforting hand squeezed her shoulder.
"Show some respect and crawl back into the hole you came from," Ginny shot.
"Weasley, you don't know the half of it—Anastasia!" Draco called. She didn't move from her ball-like state.
Ginny slammed the portrait door. Anastasia's right thumb panged and throbbed, she muffled her yelp into her knees and curled her hand into a fist. Nearly broken. She took shallow breaths.
The pain subsided enough for Anastasia to lift her head. Ginny returned to the table, a confident smile on her face. She brushed the dirty work off her hands. Harry ogled the Weasley girl.
"There you go, Anastasia. He won't be bothering you for a while. Or any of us." Ginny sat down and took her turn, laying down the winning card that destroyed all the others in a chain reaction. "Eat it, boys!" she shouted.
Anastasia uncurled herself from her ball into a crossed-legged position as Harry and Ron fell over groaning in the face of their devastating loss. Hermione and Anastasia had come out with moderate scores and were safe from the twins' experimentation.
"Are you okay?" Hermione whispered in her ear. Anastasia nodded.
"What do you think we should make them do, Georgie?" Fred asked his brother with a triumphant and mischievous grin, elbowing him in the side.
But George, wasn't entirely listening, he was zoned out, staring at Anastasia's hand resting on her knee. Her thumb had turned bright red.
"Georgie?" Fred nudged again, and his brother shook himself.
"Right!" George perked up brightly. "Well, that's two coughing cordials for Harry and one puking pastille for Ron!"
"No!" Ron declared, shooting back up into a sitting position. "Absolutely not, I'm not going to make myself vomit."
"Would you try this?" Fred offered and pulled out what looked like a small perfume bottle. Ron winced and grumbled.
Fred passed it to George who sprayed a small puff in Ron's face. Their younger brother's face turned bright red as hives broke out across his throat and arms and his hands went for his throat as he tried to breathe. He fell back over onto the ground. Fred took the bottle back from George and pocketed it.
"What is that?" Anastasia asked, watching Ron's reaction in semi-horror, but Harry was laughing. Fred beamed proudly.
"Eau d'inflame, something of my own creation. It simulates an allergic reaction. Good for a quick getaway when you know your opponent is a more capable duelist."
"That's horrible! Ron!" Hermione shouted. But the effects were already waning as Ron regained his breath, holding his thumbs up. The red color and hives dissipated.
"Not as bad as vomit," Ron admitted.
The boys and Ginny continued laughing as Hermione scolded the twins again and threatened to tell McGonagall. Anastasia was thankful for such good friends to support her in trying times, but she made a mental note to never cross the twins.
After the house elves had brought a charcuterie buffet dinner in from the kitchens, and Hermione had harassed the poor elves about what kind of work benefits they currently received, the gang continued sitting around the table late into the night, watching Ron and Harry try to reclaim victory.
At one point, Fred leaned closer to Anastasia on her right side, and snuck his arm around her shoulders, making it appear he was resting his arm on the couch cushion behind her. He looked down at her, eyes asking permission with an impish grin. She looked up at him and blushed, smiling in reply.
The group stayed up past midnight, eventually most of the Gryffindors rose to go to bed, and when George rolled up the game mat, he looked at his brother and Anastasia, still sitting against the couch, smiling sheepishly.
"Have a nice evening," he winked, a vague warning in his voice, disappeared up the stairs.
Fred smiled down at her.
"Feeling any better?" he asked. Anastasia nodded.
"Quite better now. I made the right choice," she said, thinking about the poor helpless bat, and the frustrating presence of the Slytherin and Durmstrang boys lingering in the background.
"It only took you how long?" Fred asked teasingly. Victory sparked in his eyes.
"Shut up," she said. He leaned in gently and caught her lips. Her breath hitched.
Something in the pit of her stomach told her it didn't feel quite right, but she couldn't stop.
"Go out with me?" he asked when they pulled away.
Anastasia paused in her uncertainty. She liked how Fred made her feel—warm and protected—but as long as the lifeline existed, she would always feel Draco's presence. The pull of it would never cease, and her thoughts would always be wandering even if she didn't want them too.
She didn't want to hurt Fred, so she smiled sweetly.
"I'll think about it," she replied, kissed him on the cheek, and ran upstairs to bed.
The next day, the Gryffindors went separate ways for various activities. Hermione urged Harry to study for the next task in the common room, while Anastasia joined Fred and George in the 6th year boys' dorm to go through their current inventory and business plan.
"Why don't you test this one, Anastasia?" George asked, handing her a pink, transparent hard candy.
"Um, no, I really don't want to," Anastasia pushed it away and continued marking item counts on a piece of parchment. Fred was finishing up a new batch of nosebleed nougats in his cauldron.
"Why not?" George asked, pushing the sweet back her way. "We need a tester. It should only make you itchy for a minute."
"Should, being the key word there," she specified. "Has anyone else tasted it yet?"
"No," George looked away innocently, "but you said you would help." He pushed it towards her again. Anastasia glared.
"She said no, George," Fred warned and dumped out the finished products onto brightly colored wax paper that he enchanted to tear into perfect squares and wrap the sweets individually.
"I'm getting hungry. Do you want to go down for lunch?" Anastasia suggested directly to Fred. She had to get away from George. He had been much too insistent on her trying the experimental products that day, and the last thing she needed was a reason to communicate with Draco about their ailments. Her thumb had turned slightly bluish as it was.
"Let's go," Fred said, grabbing his scarf, "See you later, Georgie."
And they left to the sound of George's scoff behind them.
"Sorry about him," Fred asked. "Are you going to be okay going to the Great Hall?"
His real question being, Are you going to be okay if we run into Draco? Anastasia shook her head.
"Can we get some air first?" she asked. They turned and walked up a small staircase to the balcony closest to Gryffindor tower. They huddled together, leaned on the banister, and looked out on the snow-covered campus. Anastasia breathed the chill of the cold air and let it freeze her from the inside out. She missed playing quidditch in cold and thought about going for a fly later that day.
"Have you thought about what I asked you last night?" Fred probed. Anastasia looked up into his eyes, frightened. She didn't want to tell him about the lifeline. It was embarrassing enough that she had already worried about Draco and what he might be feeling five times that day. She would prefer to keep that a personal embarrassment rather than a shared one.
"Yes," she said carefully.
"And?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.
"I want to…but I'm afraid…" she admitted.
"Afraid of what?" he asked. "I'm not going to hurt you like Malfoy did."
The day before, she had explained to her friends and the twins about what she had found in the corridors, and how her father was already planning an announcement to warn people from practicing dark magic. She told them about how she suspected Draco and the CD player that he gave her. Which, having reminded the Weasley's much of Ginny's journal, made them highly protective.
Anastasia looked up into Fred's calming green eyes and then away again.
"I'm afraid of what you'll think of me…" She could fill in the blank with a million phrases. When she explained the lifeline. When she told him how intertwined she and Draco were, or how it was possible she may never rid herself of it or her connections to the Malfoy family. How she might have been created as a trophy for Draco, despite her unverified bloodlines. How sometimes, she loved being in Malfoy Manor, and how it felt like home more than the Weasley's ever did.
"What?" Fred asked, bringing his arms around her again and holding her close. "That you're a beautiful, intelligent, strong and overall incredible witch?"
"Fred," she gasped. He turned and kissed her again, deepening it as he pulled her closer.
But when they turned, Draco stood there in the doorway, eyes wide, a copy of Witch Weekly rolled up in his fist.
"So, this is why you broke up with me? For the goddamn bookend?" he demanded. The pain in his voice and on his face cut Anastasia's heart down the middle, and despite her judgements of the last few days, she couldn't help crumbling in front of him.
"Draco, I—no that's not it."
"You said you loved me," he waved the magazine at her. "You said you loved me! Why couldn't you have told me that? Or were you just doing it for the publicity?"
"Draco, I swear I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. But—"
"No, that was two weeks ago, wasn't it?" Draco asked, taking a step closer. "How could you do this after everything we've been through?"
"Malfoy, stay away from her," Fred interjected. "We all know you're one of the ones doing dark magic in the corridors, so don't even try."
"Can it, Weasley," Draco said, staring directly at Anastasia. Her stomach twisted with everything she wanted, and everything she couldn't have, and everything she had broken.
"Well, if this is your definition of love…then consider the sentiment returned."
Draco threw down the magazine, stomped it into the frost-strewn stone, and walked off.
Anastasia covered her face in her hands to hide her sobs. The snow crunched under Fred's feet as he stepped over to pick up the magazine. He brushed it off and began flipping through the article, reading every word.
Anastasia held back the urge to grab it from his hands, drop it over the side of the balcony, and set it on fire on the way down. She uncovered her face and stood there, waiting for his reaction.
"I'm sorry," Fred said, and walked back to her, clutching the wilted, damp pages in one hand.
"For what? I'm the one who—"
"I stepped in too soon," Fred admitted. "I should have given you more time. I didn't realize how close you were to Malfoy…or maybe I did and still don't want to admit it."
Anastasia folded her arms.
"I'm sorry too," she admitted, but it was for something she couldn't be forgiven for yet.
"Was that all you were worried about?" Fred asked. With his free hand, he skimmed her coat sleeve with his fingertips, making her shiver. She smiled and nodded weakly, lying. He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as the wind blew against them.
And although she wanted to stay there, safe and still in Fred's arms. Her heart screamed after Draco.