Romancing the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 23: Golden Snitches

October 2004 — London, England

The owl reaches them just as they're sitting down to dinner at the Burrow, freshly back from the Caribbean, laughing and refusing to answer Bill and George's questions until after they've eaten.

Harry asks where Ginny is as Draco unties the bundle, and there's an odd note in Mrs. Weasley's voice when she says Ginny owled that she had a prior engagement, and she'd rather thought it was with Harry, and Draco doesn't hear anything else because the words written in Astoria's elegant hand crowd everything else to the background.

Draco—

The papers are on your desk. Everything's done — all that's lacking is your signature. Half a second, darling, and a few strokes of your quill, and we'll both be free.

Don't think you can change my mind, either. You may think you would be doing me a kindness to "save" our marriage, but I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. We could never make one another happy, darling, and we both know it.

I'm enclosing my ring. That, along with your signature, should break the final bindings between us, nullifying the marriage contract. The 'easy out' clause — do you remember when we asked our parents to put one in?

I've — I've found someone, Draco. She's funny and smart, and I think I might just be falling in love with her.

Please. This is the only thing I'll ever ask of you. You know I've never needed your money or name. Grant me my freedom, Draco, and take the chance to seize your own.

Your friend, always,

Astoria

PS - Do you remember how you kept promising me a trip to Barcelona? And all the other places in your stories? We think we might wander for a while, see the world. Maybe we'll run into you and Harry one day, and we can all catch up over drinks.

Draco snaps his fingers, a curious lightness spreading out from his chest, bubbling through his veins. It's an odd feeling, he reflects distantly, as he sends the house elf to fetch the parchment from his desk, then gives it a cursory glance. Sort of... fizzy.

He signs his name with his customary flourish; the parchment glows briefly, then rolls itself up and disappears with a quiet pop.

It's done, then. He doesn't feel any different. And yet...

He glances over at Potter, who is scanning the shorter note that had been bundled with the first. Astoria's familiar ring is in his palm, along with a second ring that Draco supposes must have belonged to Ginny.

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders as a band of tightness across his chest that he hadn't really noticed eases.

A second owl flies through the window, and he feels the familiar adrenaline rush when he notes the return address. He tears it open, scans the missive quickly, and yes; it's exactly what he'd hoped.

"Come on, Potter," he says, lips curling up quite without permission. "Moscow awaits. We've a cursed scepter to find."