Sweets: The Tale of Astoria Greengrass

Make Sure to Keep My Distance

Astoria awoke to the sound of quiet Celestina Warbeck in the Dark Curses Ward of St. Mungo's. She didn't move— she felt warm and sluggish, and was having difficulty recalling how she'd gotten there. The last thing she remembered was Draco Appararing her to St. Mungo's. The details of why seemed blocked by a cold front in her brain.

Astoria opened her eyes. She saw Daphne run in, and embrace Draco, who was standing over Astoria's bed. Daphne was crying heavily, tears streaming down her cheeks and howling like the wicked winter wind.

"Merlin, I thought she was dead!" Daphne cried.

Astoria felt so tired— she didn't know how to tell her that she was fine, she was alive.

"She's going to be fine, the Healers just need to keep her overnight," Draco told her, gently pushing her away. His voice dropped lower. "They said they've never seen anything like it. She was nearly dead within ten minutes. That's six times faster than the usual rate of the curse."

"It's her malediction," Daphne said as she conjured a handkerchief with her wand to wipe her tears away with. "It makes everything worse."

"I knew she had a malediction, but I didn't know the symptoms," he said quietly.

"We prefer it that way," Daphne said. "It's bad enough as it is, to know as her family. We didn't need the other Purebloods knowing about it."

"I see," Draco said. He hesitated. "It seems all we ever did was keep secrets."

"It was better that way," Daphne insisted. "Now everyone wants to know everything. I wish they'd leave well enough alone. It'll be soon enough that they find out."

"I see," Draco repeated.

"Chwaer annwyl," Astoria muttered, barely managing the strength to say it.

Daphne and Draco froze, and looked to Astoria, lying in the sterile white bed.

"Did she say something?" Daphne asked.

"Nothing coherent," Draco said.

"Chwaer annwyl," Astoria repeated, louder.

"It's not incoherent," Daphne said, sounding almost angry. "It's Welsh, just a second— Rydw i yma, chwaer annwyl."

I'm here, dear sister.

Daphne raced to her sister's side and took her hand. It was still a little cold, but not like before. Daphne held on tight. "Mae'n ddrwg gen i."

I'm sorry.

"What for?" Astoria mumbled.

"I shouldn't have let you out alone with Draco, I should've kept a better eye on you," Daphne said, glancing at the young man still standing over Astoria's bed, hands awkwardly set in his pockets.

"It's alright, Daphne, it really is," Astoria protested.

"Well, I haven't been doing a good job protecting you, in recent years," Daphne admitted.

Astoria forced herself to sit up. "If anything, you've been overprotective."

"That's what I mean," Daphne said with a sigh. "I've been so busy protecting you from the little things, I completely botch it on the big things. You almost died, Astoria."

Astoria blinked as it hit her. "Oh my God."

She began to cry herself, as the full fear of what already happened hit her. She kept repeating its over and over again.

"Oh my God."

Draco lingered towards the door, and when Astoria finally got a grip on herself, he opened it.

"Where are you going?" Astoria asked.

"Home," Draco said. "You're alive— you don't need me anymore. Besides, I'd better go talk to Pansy."

"Well," Astoria said, stalling, wanting to make him stay for one more minute, even though she knew it was wrong. "Thank you, then. For saving my life."

Something about his face softened. "You're welcome."

He then left, leaving the two sisters to reconcile.

For the rest of the winter holiday, Astoria noticed that Draco never came around again, never even wrote a letter. Astoria supposed to herself it was for the best. He was to get married during the Easter holiday. She was interfering in that, according to Pansy.

Astoria couldn't fault him for not coming around anymore. She sighed as she glanced out her frosted window. It felt like all her friends were leaving, like her entire life was crumbling apart.

"Astoria?"

She turned to see her mother standing in her bedroom's doorway. Queenie Greengrass looked like the blonde enchantress she'd been in her youth. She was dressed in a white blouse embroidered with white thread, and black silk high-waisted pants, silver jewelry adorning her.

"I think we need to talk about some things," Queenie said, and she sat down on Astoria's unmade bed. "We have less than a year before I have to leave you. I want you to know some things. Things that I always meant for you to know, but I thought we'd have time."

There were so many tired, cynical thoughts on the edge of Astoria's lips, but she held them back and instead nodded steadily. She knew better— this was what came with knowing you'd die young. No second chances, no regrets, because the time left seemed to disappear all too quickly.

When Astoria first returned from the break, she went into the kitchen, and began cooking Tranquility Tarts. She sprinkled a powder on them that would make those who smelled the, irresistibly drawn— she wanted to make sure everyone in the house ate one. It would make everyone feel a little calmer— and with calmness, in Astoria's experience, came a moment to reflect and become more optimistic towards one's predicaments.

She set the cookies down in the common room and left them be. She walked to her desk in the dormitory and pulled out the special parchment with leaves pressed into it. She dipped her quill into the ink and began to write a letter in Welsh she would never send.

Dear Draco,

I'm so sorry. I wish I had never tried to be your friend. The thing is, I don't think we can be friends. Pansy saw something that I only now have come to realize. It's not that I love you— it's that I could. You're beautiful, and I'm not talking about your looks. You've done some horrible things, and I can't love those. What I could learn to love is the goodness deep down. Someday, I know you'll be a good man. You weren't always, heaven knows Dumbledore wasn't. But I think someday you will be that good of a man. I see it in you every time I look at you. I see a man trying for redemption— that man, I could learn to love.

Now you've gone and saved my life— an act that tells more than words ever could about what sort of man you'll be. I don't think I'll be able to fight my feelings for you, so I'm keeping my distance from now on. It'll make Pansy much happier, I think. Know that I still believe in you, and I cannot wait to see the sort of man you are.

Love,

Astoria

Astoria folded the letter neatly, addressed it as A Love Letter Unsent, and then buried it in her trunk where no one would be able to find it, except for her. She stood up, and re-entered the common room.

Even Fawley and Selwyn had eaten the tarts. Everyone seemed much calmer, less angry, and more contemplative. Astoria smiled, and sampled one herself. It was like waking up after a long, horrible night.