Chapter 1: Distractions

Selected Listening: Come On- Panic! At the Disco and F.U.N.

A/N: I'm not very good at taking a break. Welcome to Book 5!

As you've probably noticed, we've now reached a Mature rating, and while there's a slight chance I'll drop it back down to Teen by the end, the chances are rather low. The romance is intensifying, and things are rather dark. But I figure that's what a lot of you have been waiting for, so enjoy! If you're new here, Books 0-4 are available on my profile for your bingeing pleasure.

Also, I promise not every other song will be Panic! this time. It's just this first one, followed by a lot more Mayday Parade and Taylor Swift. The new playlist is on YouTube under the user dumblebrat.

And so we descend...

Out of all the places Anastasia imagined being the summer after Voldemort's resurrection, sitting on a stone wall next to her godmother and her ex-boyfriend along a river, in a small cloudy town south of Manchester was not one of them.

Mostly because of all the responses Anastasia could have predicted from Albus when her godmother owled asking if she could accompany the Malfoys on holiday, the least she expected was:

"You should go." Her father re-rolled the note and placed it to the side of his quill.

"But don't you think it's too dangerous?" Anastasia asked as she faced him from the other side of the headmaster's desk. "Draco's father is a death eater. What if he tries something?"

"Narcissa says Lucius has other business to attend to…" Albus gave her a meaningful look. "Which means, whatever their schemes, the Death Eaters will be too busy to bother you on a trip to a small port town."

Anastasia frowned discerningly.

"Right, well…what if I don't want to go?" she asked. She used to jump at the chance to spend time with her godmother, but things had changed. She didn't want to see Draco unless she absolutely had to. Albus sighed.

"The Daily Prophet, as you know, is trying to distract everyone by telling them I'm old and senile and unfit to run the school. It's what Voldemort wants, so he has time to hide and grow stronger."

Anastasia looked away and then back to her aging father. The topic made her uncomfortable, a dagger in her heart, but she had become accustomed to it. She couldn't even go to Hogsmeade to visit her uncle without whispers following her.

"Right, but what does that have to do with me going?"

"My dear, there will come a time when Voldemort can no longer hide, and that is when it will be most dangerous for you to be with your godmother. I suggest you use this time wisely." His crystal blue eyes glimmered darkly.

"It's not only that…" she avoided the topic as she fiddled with her mother's necklace and tapped the toe of one of her laced boots on the stone floor.

Albus did his best not to smile.

"You had your falling out with Draco, but should you really let that get in the way of your relationship with Narcissa? Not to mention, even though you may not be officially involved, you are still connected by the lifeline. Might this be a good time to find some middle ground?" he asked casually. "Or at least some lighthearted distraction?"

She looked up to Fawkes, resting on his stand. The phoenix looked ill, that awful time of the month when his feathers had half-fallen out, but he still had a week to go before his burning day.

"What does it matter?" Anastasia asked in a bitter tone. "If Voldemort is going to try and destroy us all, I feel like I shouldn't be getting too attached to either of them."

Her voice broke. Albus's expression softened. He stood and walked to his daughter, took her hand, and patted it gently. She couldn't help but notice how soft and papery his skin had become.

"Don't let Voldemort's cruelty harden you, my dear. We survived the last war on love alone, and we will survive with love again."

"All of us?" she asked doubtfully.

"In spirit," he replied, and then returned to his parchment.

So, there she was. The three had only dropped off their things at the ramshackle rental cottage Narcissa reserved and came out to examine their surroundings. It was a peaceful village, mainly muggle. The wind whipped across the river's glassy black waves under a sky of solid gray.

"Such a beautiful afternoon," Narcissa sighed.

Anastasia and Draco didn't answer. It was the first time Draco had been quiet since they set off. Much like the previous year, Narcissa feigned to tell her son what the actual plans were, so when Anastasia arrived to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron that morning, she was greeted with a sharp, "Why is she here?" followed by quite a bit of complaining.

She didn't know why she had thought it would be any different. The Daily Prophet slandered her family—her father, her uncle, and herself—over her father's announcement of Voldemort's return and Cedric Diggory's murder. The last time Anastasia checked, Draco believed the popular rumor: that Harry had gone mad, and Voldemort had not been resurrected at all. She hoped the summer would have changed that. That his parents would have told him about Voldemort's return, and he would at least understand that Albus was not going senile.

But unfortunately, Draco stayed ten feet away from her at all times, as if he were afraid he would catch a mental illness.

Anastasia wondered why her godmother had selected a peaceful muggle village for their week-long getaway before the start of term. It seemed like she hadn't prepared herself or Draco for it at all. Though Anastasia blended in perfectly with her navy corduroy dress, striped shirt, and boots, the two next to her—Narcissa in her solid black, long-sleeve dress, and Draco in a casual black robe over jeans, looked rather like the Adams Family had popped in for a crab boil.

And people stared as they passed.

"Didn't you pack any muggle clothing at all?" Anastasia asked as she sipped the last bit of chai from the bottom of the cup.

"I was right. They are staring!" Draco pushed off from where he leaned against a nearby tree and tossed his empty cup into the rubbish bin.

Narcissa's smile stretched nervously from the small wrought-iron table outside the café where they had purchased their drinks.

"I originally planned for us to go to Prague, but when your father said he couldn't make it, I thought something more local would work better."

Draco walked over to his mother and continued his list of complaints.

"We can't stay here! Why did we even bother with a family vacation if father can't come? And why in Merlin's name you bring Anastasia?" Draco said as he maddeningly paced around the small section of cobblestone sidewalk.

It was awkward. Narcissa knew their history.

Anastasia ignored him, looking out over the water. She had a feeling that her godmother planned something sly. The timing was too spontaneous.

"I'm sorry if I wanted to have a nice time with you two." Narcissa folded her arms stubbornly. "Not like I see you, Draco, for most of the year, and when you are home, you're always going over to friend after friends' houses. Not to mention, Anastasia is my goddaughter. I have a right to see her, no matter your current relationship status!"

Narcissa's words stung and comforted. It was nice to have reassurance that her longstanding conflict with Draco had no effect on their relationship. Still, Anastasia and Draco hadn't spoken about their relationship since being attacked by a death eater on the day of Voldemort's return. Yet again, she had rejected him romantically.

"Well why don't you two go to Prague and I'll stay home." Draco turned, crossed his arms, and stared into the distance. Narcissa chucked her Earl Gray tea into the rubbish bin, and rounded on her son as if she might strangle him.

"Wait, wait, wait—" Anastasia stuttered as she stumbled up, remembering Albus's words. She grabbed Narcissa's elbow and spoke to the back of Draco's blonde head. "Your mum has a point. She doesn't get to spend that much time with you or me, so let's make the most of it. I think we'll do a lot better off if you're both in the proper clothing."

"What are you proposing?" Narcissa asked shrewdly.

"Shopping?" Anastasia asked as she let go of her godmother's sleeve. "It's no Prague, but I saw some boutiques and things back up the road. And you have to trust me on what looks good. If I say buy it, buy it."

Narcissa glanced back up the way they'd come, eyeing the storefronts.

"Alright…that sounds fine…Draco?" she looked toward her son, who had turned only slightly over his shoulder, sneering.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

Anastasia couldn't help smirking.

They stopped by a brightly lit boutique first. The young, female clerk greeted them kindly with a "Welcome in," and they began picking through the racks of articles on gold hangers.

"There's no men's clothing in here," Draco said as he examined a large sunhat.

"We'll have to stop somewhere else for you," Narcissa said as she picked a frilly skirt off the rack.

"Is this good?" she asked Anastasia. "Do you think they have this in black?"

Draco made a face as if he might vomit.

"Erm—" Anastasia winced, taking the skirt and putting it back on the rack. "Muggles don't usually wear a lot of black in the summertime."

"Well, here's something—" she spotted a black crop top with a beaded rose on the front and pulled it out. Her eyes bulged. "Merlin! Is this half a blouse?"

Anastasia grabbed that one too and placed it back where it was.

"This store really only has things that college girls want—"

"Well, you can shop if you want, dear," Narcissa suggested.

"We're not shopping for me. We're shopping for you," she insisted, turned them both around, and pushed them out the door.

Next door to the first boutique, they found a secondhand shop with a variety of options for men and women.

"Why are there so many trousers?" Narcissa asked, filing through the women's rack. "I've never worn trousers," she mused.

"Most modern muggle women don't wear skirts and dresses. At least not every day," Anastasia said. "What about this?"

Anastasia pulled out a plain pair of blue jeans and a striped t-shirt.

Narcissa cringed.

"Okay, okay…" she filed through some more and found her godmother's size in multiple pairs of black pants and some neutral looking blouses.

Narcissa came out of the dressing room. She wore an emerald blouse and belted jeans. Paired with a denim jacket, she could pass for a mum on holiday.

"You look great," Anastasia commented graciously. "Here, take these, and these, they're similar." She piled on some more items into Narcissa's arms and pushed her gently back to the dressing room, then went to find Draco.

"There's no hoods on these," Draco commented as Anastasia handed him multiple, plain t-shirts and sweaters.

"Muggle guys don't want hoods on everything…at least not on robes. Now take this, and these jeans and go try them on."

"I really hope you know what you're doing," he said as he walked towards the fitting room. Anastasia followed him and waited outside.

"Does this look alright?" Draco asked as he came out from behind the curtain. His white t-shirt slouched over black jeans that hugged him tightly around the hips. It was a version of him she thought she'd never see. Anastasia smiled.

"What? Do I look funny?" he asked, now grinning and turning in a slow circle so she could see.

"No…no you look grand…" she cleared her throat, "I'm sure Pansy would love it…if she could stand to see you in muggle clothes."

"Oh," Draco looked away dejectedly. "I guess."

"Here. It's cold. Get this too." Narcissa came back around and handed Draco a black leather jacket. It filled out his frame as he shrugged it on.

"What do you think, Dumblebrat? Approved?" he asked.

She couldn't speak but nodded and smiled.

"Let's check out…" Anastasia went for the counter.

"Not until you've gotten yourself something," Narcissa said pointedly.

"I don't need anything," she muttered. Draco scoffed.

"I've seen you wear the same outfit at least once every year since we were ten. Go find some new muggle garb," Draco pointed to the section for young women.

Anastasia sighed, shook her head, and went looking.

She didn't see anything she wanted, and the whole was getting banal. In fact, Draco and Narcissa seemed more distracted by shopping for her than she was. The two of them filed through the racks, analyzing each piece. Anastasia yawned, unsure of what the point of all this was with a madman plotting against society.

"What about this one—" Narcissa asked, picking up a blush-colored blouse. n

"Too frilly…" replied Draco, with a critical finger on his lower lip.

"This one—"

"What is it with muggles worshipping denim these days?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…look at this," Narcissa found an ice-blue sweater. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Does Anastasia look like a winter to you, mum? Because she's not—"

"Would you two stop?" Anastasia pleaded, turning red. "The clothes I'm in are fine."

"No, this is fun," Draco said.

"This is fun…" Narcissa nodded, and they continued their way down the rack.

Anastasia found a spot on the wall and leaned against it. She briefly looked out the window and thought she saw a shadowed figure, but when she looked back, it was gone. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

"I've got it," Draco announced, pulling a plaid minidress proudly from the rack. Narcissa glanced at his choice, smirked, and busied herself with a shelf of purses in the corner.

"Really? This?" Anastasia asked. She had to admit, although loud, she didn't hate it. The strappy thing needed a t-shirt underneath and a pair of platform Mary janes.

"Yes, this," he insisted, "If you get to pick our silly muggle costumes, we get to do the same. Try it on."

"It's not a costume, it's clothing," Anastasia corrected as she grabbed the necessary components and went into the dressing room. She undressed and pulled the tight dress over her head. It fit snug over the t-shirt, but it was comfortable. She changed her shoes as well and bundled her old clothing up.

"How do I look?" she asked as she emerged.

She knew the answer because Draco's eyes roamed over her, pausing in certain places for seconds too long.

"I'm changing—" she turned.

"No, no don't change, you look great," he said, pulling her wrist gently. His ears turned pink. "Fantastic, actually. We'll buy it for you."

At this point, Narcissa returned from the corner and repocketed her wand, which had been blinking with a blue light.

"Change of plans, Ms. Tenisent is having her baby now, not in two weeks like the seers predicted. So, I will have to leave you two here while I go take care of her. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. Here," she shoved a zippered money bag into Anastasia's hands. It held an incredible mix of twenty, fifty, and even one-hundred-pound notes along with three buttons, a wax seal, the keys to the rental, and a pack of gum. "Don't go anywhere alone, and make sure you're back to the cottage by dark."

"Why does she get to hold the money?" Draco whined.

Narcissa ignored him as she walked out the door and around the corner. The faint sound of apparition popped in their ears.

The dumbfounded store clerk stared after the woman wearing his merchandise.

"Was she planning to pay for any of that?" he asked vaguely.

"Sorry, sir," Anastasia said, counting out more than a reasonable amount for the clothing they had. "She's a doctor. It was an emergency. Keep the change."

And they left with their old clothes in shopping bags.