Chapter 2: Wandering
Selected Listening: Awake My Soul -Mumford and Sons
"She left us! I can't believe she brought us here and left us!" Draco complained as they wandered down the cobblestone path. The gray sky loomed into infinity in all directions, and a mist had started to fall over the rather damp village.
"It's not like her patients can control when they give birth," Anastasia remarked sharply.
It might have been the constricting dress or the pinching shoes, but something made her want to crawl out of her skin. She felt the same when she saw the shadow in the secondhand shop window. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she reached to smooth them down.
"Well, she shouldn't have brought us here at all. What are we even doing here?" Draco asked, turning to Anastasia, hands shoved in his pockets. "Don't you feel like there's a particular reason why she chose this place?"
Anastasia narrowed her eyes as she glanced around. No one behind them. She lowered her voice as she hurried to catch up to Draco's side.
"Yes, she's definitely up to something…Grandad was a little too quick to suggest I come with. It's not like there's a tournament going on this year with rules against me being home."
Draco kept a silent, straight face. His lips pressed in a tight line.
They kept walking. The villagers passed them, now unnoticing. Draco frowned even more as they walked. Anastasia felt a twinge creep across her shoulders. She searched for an escape route, and it came in the form of a large gift shop.
"This place looks sweet, let's check it out," Anastasia grabbed his hand and dragged him into the store, even though it looked like a place where old ladies bought bric-a-brac.
A set of chimes jingled as they walked in. An elderly woman stood at a large glass desk filled with jewelry and watches. There were shelves full of home decor, and a whole aisle of cards and get-well sentiments.
Anastasia ducked into the stationary aisle and picked up a card to peer over as she examined the street outside. She couldn't see anything unusual. No matter how hard she looked, the shadow from before did not return…but she could feel something lurking.
On the other side of the shop, Draco gazed over all the little ornaments and figurines, and soon his confused and frightened glance changed to one of interest and amusement. Anastasia, having felt the looming subside for a moment, glanced over her shoulder and walked over to him. He looked up at her.
"What were you staring at?" Draco asked. "Outside?"
"Um…nothing…I just felt like…something's not quite right."
Draco stared, but didn't say anything.
Anastasia examined his expression of silent agreement and then the shelf in front of him. He had found a statuette of an arctic stoat, carved out of white quartz, winding playfully down a hill.
"Aw," she remarked. "Remind you of the good old days?"
"Shut it," he said. "Some of us don't like turning into an animal, we certainly don't like being forced to."
"Right…" Anastasia said, grinning. "But do you want it?"
Draco stared at her with a hesitant gaze, unsure if she would mock him forever for it.
"Only if you get this one." Draco picked another off the shelf and handed it to her. A red fox carved out of jasper, sitting on a rock.
"Fine," she grinned, taking it in her fingertips. "If it will make you feel better about leaning into your ermine nature."
"I don't have an ermine nature," Draco said, holding his nose up. "Now if they had a dragon, I could relate."
"But you want the ferret?"
Draco groaned in annoyance. "Are we getting it or not?"
Anastasia had the fleeting urge to kiss him, but she didn't. She couldn't hurt him like that again. She remembered how he ran to her after her near-death experience. How forcefully he held her. Was all of that truly caused by the lifeline?
"What?" Draco asked when she had been silent too long.
"Nothing," she shook her head. "It's nothing. Let's get this and go."
At the counter, Draco stole the money bag and tried to count things out himself. He attempted to give the old lady buttons for pounds. She frowned disapprovingly. In the end, Anastasia had to gently take the money from Draco and replace the buttons with bills.
"Sorry about him," Anastasia said, "he's um…foreign."
The lady gave an insulted humph as they left with the small bag of trinkets.
"Foreign! That's all you could think of? Foreign?" Draco asked as they exited onto the lane. "We were just speaking English right next to her." Anastasia gave him a critical side-eye.
"It's not easy when the person you're with tries to pay with haberdashery."
"Well, it's not my fault…" Draco started, but his insulted glare turned into a smirk. "Anyway, thanks for the gift, Dumblebrat. Guess your fake-muggle-born nonsense comes in handy sometimes." He dropped their bag into the larger bag of clothing.
"Thanks," she smiled and stared at the stones under her sneakers while he stared at her. She caught him, and he flustered.
"Uh-let's head back to the cottage," Draco suggested, pulling on his collar. "I need to do something."
"Okay…" she drifted off. She was unsure of what he could need to do during the summer, unless it was unfinished homework.
They continued walking back up the lane towards the direction of the rental. Once again, the hairs on the back of Anastasia's neck stood up.
"Do you feel that?" she asked in a whisper. He nodded. They took a few more steps. It couldn't mean anything good.
"We need to run…on three," she noted, and waited until their feet aligned with the next space between buildings.
"Wait, Ana—"
"Three!"
Anastasia grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him into the alleyway. He breathed heavily behind her. The shadows of the alley shrouded them as they ran through the streets, winding around corners, dashing over puddles and around rubbish bins. Their bags flailed beside them.
They didn't stop for blocks. And when they finally did, Draco pulled his inhaler out and breathed deeply. Anastasia leaned back against a brick wall and waited as her vision faded in and out, resolidifying when Draco finally could speak and put his inhaler away.
"Warn me next time!" Draco snapped between breaths.
"Shh!" She took his hand again and placed it above her on the wall. His jacket draped down, blocking their faces from view of the main street.
"What are we doing?" Draco whispered, leaning closer.
"Someone's been following us since the clothing store. We need to wait here until they pass."
Draco froze. Anastasia looked up at him. The scent of him and the jacket played with her mind and made it go fuzzy. His stormy eyes, filled with concern, stared back at her. The warmth of his body lingered.
Again, she entertained kissing him, but she couldn't. First, she was the one who said they couldn't be together unless she knew her feelings were true. Second, it wouldn't be right with him dating Pansy. She closed her eyes and listened for footsteps. Someone came close, stopped, and then went another direction, drifting away so she couldn't hear them at all.
"There, I think we're safe," she said. She opened her eyes to find Draco staring even more intently and biting his lower lip.
"Huh? Oh, right…" he said, and pulled away from the wall. "I think the house is this way," he said and started walking. Anastasia followed.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Pretty sure," he said.
They soon came across a shop, hidden away on a side road, that looked like the hinges had been knocked off its wooden door. The whole thing was dark. It was a beachy souvenir shop with a sign that read "The River's Edge." Displays of dusty starfish and seashells sat in the window along with some romance novels one might want to read on a lazy day at the beach.
"There's something wrong here," Anastasia said.
"Yeah, it's closed." Draco said with eyes that warned her she shouldn't be looking for stupid things to do right now, but her shoes were already pointed in the direction of the shop, which, to his distress, meant they would be going.
"I feel like there's something important here," she said. "It seems familiar."
They wandered in, step by step, the cold emptiness of the shop closed around them. Anastasia's eyes drifted over the books and knickknacks and finally settled on the fireplace in the corner.
In the hearth, lay a bit of old parchment, covered in dust.
Anastasia reached out, picked up the parchment, and shook it off. It was wrapped in a scroll as if it had been carried by owl, dropped, and forgotten. Anastasia reached for the velvet ribbon to untie it, but Draco's hand flashed over hers to snatch it away.
"Hey!" she said, hands on her hips. "You didn't even want to come in here! You can't steal what I was sneaking."
Draco ignored her as he unwrapped the parchment. His heart sunk as he recognized his own handwriting from years ago. It simply couldn't be.
"What is it?" Anastasia asked. She strained to look, but he pulled it away, far above her head and started walking around the shop.
"Give it to me!" she argued. Draco feinted to keep it from her, but finally she caught him and ripped the pages from his hands. He snatched it back, ripping it in half. She frowned, opened her portion the letter, and found familiar handwriting.
Dear Anastasia,
Are you having a good summer? I'm owling you to let you know that the muggle medicine you pilfered for me is working—
"You wrote this letter to me after first year," she said. "Why is it here?"
"I don't know…" Draco growled as he stuffed the rest into his pocket. "I figured it never reached you. I didn't think about where it ended up."
Anastasia wandered outside and looked at the sign again. She had told people in first year that her muggle parents owned a shop like that. But it had all been a lie. Why would it matter now? Why would all of this show up all at once?
Then she noticed a scent in the air…a dank, musty scent that made Anastasia's nose twitch and goosebumps rise on her arms…the scent of rat.
"I'm not going to let you read the rest." Draco said bitterly.
"Fine. We have to get back to the cottage. Now." She jolted deliberately towards the main road. She remembered which alley they had come from earlier that morning. Draco followed closely behind her, now checking over his shoulders at every turn. They gripped their wands in their pockets, although they couldn't use them without risking expulsion, it was a small comfort.
The rat scent faded, and so did Anastasia's instinct to chase it.
They dashed down the last two blocks to the rickety two-story building squeezed between other old wooden houses. It was painted pale blue with white shutters and gables on the top floor.
As soon as she closed the door behind them, they locked the three bolts and took a deep breath.
Now they were completely alone.
Anastasia felt a stitch in her chest. To stop her panic, she began pacing, and as she began pacing, her thoughts became words falling out of her mouth.
"If someone's following us, they know a lot about us. They probably watched us come here. They know we're here. We can't use magic. And we're sitting ducks."
And rat could only mean one person.
"Right…" Draco said. He stared nervously, not nearly as upset as her.
"We should go back to the Leaky Cauldron," Anastasia suggested. "We can get rooms there if it gets too late, and we can leave a note for your mum, and she can come find us when she comes back."
"Sure…try the floo?" Draco asked.
"Right!" Anastasia ran to the small stone fireplace, but soon realized it was much too small for a person, and there was no tray with ashes on the mantle. "It's a muggle fireplace. It's not connected to the floo network."
She kicked the stones in irritation. Draco watched her desperate attempts and tried to find the right words of comfort.
"It's not entirely unsafe. Mum warded the place before we left."
"Right," she said, frozen. Draco walked to her again and carefully placed both hands on her shoulders. His eyes glinted with worry.
"You're being paranoid. There's no one there."
Anastasia tried to take a deep breath.
"Easy for you to say…you don't even believe Voldemort's returned."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"No, I don't. But I did feel what you felt earlier, and even if someone is following us, no one is threatening us right now."
"Okay," she said, stepped back, and gently removed his hands from her shoulders. "Fine. I'll stop."
"Let's do something to keep our mind of things…" he suggested.
"Like what?" she asked, suddenly blushing.
"Chess?" he asked, eyeing a set on the low table in front of the futon.
"Chess." she repeated.
They settled down and set up the board. Draco sat on the gray futon, and Anastasia on a cushion in front of the table.
"Pawn to F5," Draco said to the board. Nothing moved.
"You have to move it yourself," Anastasia corrected. "And they don't bash each other to bits."
"Oh," he complained and took the piece to shift it forward.
Once they began playing, Anastasia couldn't help asking.
"So…how are you and Pansy?"
Draco's eyes flashed up at her annoyedly.
"We're fine…I haven't seen her in a few weeks. I told her I needed to practice for quidditch…" He moved a piece and took one of her pawns. She sighed.
"Have you spoken to the bookend at all?" he asked. She froze.
"How could I?" she asked. "You sort of ruined that."
"Can't ruin something that was doomed to fail," he commented shortly.
She glared.
"I'm sorry…" Draco said, as she took her turn. "I've actually been sort of worried with you…with your father, I mean."
"Grandad's fine—" she argued.
"If you say so, but that doesn't mean the world believes it," he shot. She was quiet as she took one of his rooks.
"If something ever happens—" he started.
"Stop," she warned.
"If anything happens, like if the board votes him out…you have a place with us. Don't worry. I'll take care of father if I have to."
Anastasia's stomach turned.
"They won't do that. Grandad's fine." She said determinedly. They were silent for the next few moves. She set a seamless trap. He reached for one of his pieces.
"You can't take my queen with your bishop. If you do, that puts you in checkmate," she smirked.
"Bloody—" he stared at the board. His brow furrowed. "Fine, I guess you win, Dumblebrat. What do you want?"
"What do I want?" she asked hesitantly.
"Sure, you deserve some sort of prize," he insisted with a smirk.
Anastasia looked away, sensing the double meaning behind his words. She remembered the book she brought in her rucksack in her room.
"I want to read," she decided.
Draco scoffed. "Fine, I have things to do anyway."
Anastasia settled in a wicker papasan chair in the corner with her volume of Hans Christian Anderson stories. She had reached the tale of the Snow Queen. She started to read of the tale of a young girl and boy who were best of friends growing up…
…and then a piece of ice struck the boy's heart.
Anastasia looked over at Draco's profile and had to put the book down. He stared down at his parchment, quill in hand. She waltzed over to him and stared over his shoulder, but she didn't see much of the writing besides "Pansy," before Draco swatted her away. She fell onto the throw pillow on the floor next to him and lay staring up at his focused gaze. She admired the way his blonde fringe fell over his eyes, and the way his eyebrows crunched above his nose.
"Ooh, writing a letter to Pansyyyy," she teased.
"Shut it. It's not funny."
"What's it about, Oh Pansy your eyes are as beautiful as a—"
"I'm trying to break up with her, okay?" he said sharply.
"Oh." Anastasia sat up gently and with concern. "Why? You said you were fine. Also, it's super rude to break up with someone by owl, have the courtesy to do it in person." Anastasia felt an incredible pain swell in her heart. She knew why he was doing it. She wished he wouldn't.
Draco stared at Anastasia with a mix of confusion, terror, and embarrassment.
"You know, us Slytherins prefer to not make a scene when we break up with someone. It allows the other person time to save face. Something you wouldn't understand."
Draco was directly referencing her breaking up with him in the Great Hall after the Yule Ball…in front of everyone.
"Uh-I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, realizing how hurtful her choice had been in hindsight.
Draco crumpled up his attempt at the letter, threw it aside and got to his feet, began walking toward the door. "Doesn't matter. It's stupid anyway."
Anastasia leapt to her feet.
"Draco-wait. I didn't mean to hurt you, but—"
"But what?" he shot a glare over his shoulder.
"But I need proof…proof that it isn't—"
"The lifeline…right, I get it. Whatever…" he hopped down the stairs and reached the entryway. She followed.
"I still…care about you…" she specified, feeling like she needed to say something, even if she wasn't sure her love was real. He paused.
"You care too much for your own good," Draco said, grabbing his jacket off the hook.
"Where are you going?" she asked, voice cracking with fear.
"To the shore." He opened the door in front of him.
"Let me come with you," she said, running to her own cardigan on the hook next to his. "It's not safe."
"No thanks." Draco said and slammed the door behind him.
Anastasia cried on the futon in the loft for the rest of the afternoon. Draco wouldn't have been angry with her if she hadn't listened to Helena Ravenclaw's story.
They would be together if she wasn't being so stubborn.
Narcissa didn't arrive back until late, and when she did, Anastasia pretended to be asleep. Draco returned around the same time and Narcissa confronted him.
"Where have you been? Walking around the village on your own?"
"Yes? So what? I needed some air."
"You don't know who's out there, Draco. We're being watched."
"I don't care if the ministry goons—"
"I'm not talking about the ministry Draco. I'm talking about everyone."
"Who's everyone?"
"It doesn't matter. Wash up and fetch Anastasia." Narcissa called for Mopsy and the little elf apparated in from the manor with a prepared meal. The smells of veal and vegetables drifted up to the loft.
Anastasia heard her stomach growl. Draco creaked up the stairs, then ran back down.
"She's asleep," he said and started prepping his own plate. Anastasia feigned a stretch and a yawn and wandered downstairs.
"Sorry, I must have dozed off," she said and grabbed her own plate.
"It's alright dear," Narcissa paused, staring at her face, "Are you alright? Your face is red."
"I um- yes, must be from lying on the couch."
Narcissa sent a suspicious glare to her son, and then turned back gently to Anastasia.
"Here, I have just the spell." Narcissa took her by the shoulders and pulled out her wand.
Patet facieum taum.
Anastasia felt her face cool, and she smiled.
"Thank you."
Narcissa squeezed her arm and sent her to the table. "Anytime, dear."
Anastasia did her best to not make eye contact with Draco as they ate, but occasionally, her eyes would slip in his direction as Narcissa described her rather morbid afternoon, sometimes they would meet again awkwardly and drift away.
Eventually she finished eating, and then her thoughts began to wander.
Who would have had the letters Draco sent her so many years ago? And why would they have shown up that day? Was Pettigrew following them, or did she sense someone different?
When Narcissa finished her story, she sighed, waved her wand, and dinner cleared itself.
"I don't care what you two are fighting about. We're going on an outing tomorrow, and I need you both ready by ten o'clock."
"Where are we going?" Draco asked dejectedly.
"If I told you, that would ruin all the fun, wouldn't it?" Narcissa asked in a way that didn't sound fun at all.
