Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Five

The Hufflepuff boy caught me before I hit the ground, thankfully.

Somehow I ended up in my house. My parents probably grabbed me and hugged me, they probably asked me where Daphne was, if I was okay, maybe even if I wanted some food or something. But I wouldn't know, for that day, that week, whatever frame of time I was trapped in was less than a blur, and worse than a memory.

They had laid my sister's body out with the rest of the fallen. A boy Dean Thomas would later inform my parents: "She fought hard, she did. I saw it. I saw her. . . a girl, I think her name was Tracey? Um. . . Daphne, well she disarmed the Death Eater who had disarmed Tracey, but another one came in and. . . well. . . she died a hero."

It didn't matter how she died. She was gone. I was never going to see her again. There was so much I never told her. So much I wanted to thank her for, so many things I wanted her to know. But it was too late, and she would never know.

I don't really know how the summer passed. I do know it was filled with horrific nightmares. Every night.

When I was little and I had a nightmare, I would run into Daphne's room. She would hold me tight and tell me stories. She did the same when we were in Hogwarts. But now there was no one there. No one to hold me tight and tell me everything was going to be okay.

Because it wasn't okay, nothing was even a fraction near the false notion of okay.

It came as a disturbing surprise when I told my parents I would be going back to Hogwarts for my sixth year.

"No," My mother snapped, a fuming sadness scarring her face.

"Mother I --" but I was cut off by her abrupt sobs. My father held her, tears staining his face as well.

A long pause in which my mother cried. "Why would you go back there? Where she. . . ." More cries as my father cooed her.

"Because she died fighting for it!" I half yelled. I didn't mean to yell, but I did, and they both quieted. Taking in a shaky breath, I calmed myself down and straightened myself out.

"Daphne gave her life to protect that school and. . . I'm going," I said sternly, staring at the floor. When I did make eye contact with them, a silent understanding was reached. Not a proud or accepting understanding, but a stifled resignation. My father nodded, his face stone and stoic, and my mother sighed, shaking her head, as she left the room in a few long strides.

* * *

My father held some of my cases, seeing as how Daphne usually placed them on her trolley. No one spoke when he did this. My mother and I just watched, unable to say anything as he silently took them in his arms, his lips pursed, refusing to make eye contact with us.

I walked slowly through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, the normal excitement dormant. My mother was shaking, and a pang of guilt finally surfaced. I was so focused on getting to Hogwarts, thinking maybe I would somehow feel closer to Daphne there, I completely disregarded how it might feel to see your daughter go off to the exact place her sister died.

Once on the other side, I held her tight as she melted into my arms. She was trying not to cry, but failing as shallow and rigid breaths spiked in her lungs.

My father joined in as well and I melted a bit too. There we stood, a mess, a broken family. Maybe on a different day people would've stopped and stared, but not here. This was how everyone stood, holding those they loved with bated breath, unwilling to let them go.

"Just, just be safe, okay?" My mother managed, cupping my cheeks in her hands.

"I will be," I promised.

We bid our farewells, and as I got on the train I made sure not to look back. If I did, I might not have been able to leave. I might have leapt right back into their arms and never let go. But I didn't. I left.

As I scanned the compartments for a vacancy, each face I saw bore the same expression. It was an odd one, a face full of a sad sort of unity, a stifled happiness perhaps, embodying the relief that it was over, and they were here, however haunted they may be.

It wasn't difficult to find an empty compartment, so I settled in, nestling myself in the seat. I must've dozed off, because when I heard the distant and familiar sound of the Trolley Witch's call, I sprung straight up.

"Anything from the Trolley, dear?" She said as I slid the door open. Behind her approached Holly Anderson and her other Gryffindor friend, a girl with dark skin and curly hair. I was shocked to see Holly here, see her back even though she was a muggle-born. I supposed she must have eluded Hogwarts last year, and with it, the punishments that would've awaited her for this fact.

A line began to form behind them of hungry students. Holly gave me a half smile, I did the same, an awkward reciprocation.

What happened next was ridiculous, I knew. It was embarrassing, and dramatic -- I chastised myself for it many times over afterward -- but it happened nonetheless.

I looked back at the Trolley Witch and spotted the chocolate frogs on her cart. I'm not sure what came over me, but in an instant, I was swimming in the all-encompassing fear, the loneliness I'd felt for the past two months.

My breathing shallow and quickended, my hands beginning to shake, my eyes darting back and forth. I saw Daphne and I, my first time on the Hogwarts express, loads of chocolate frog boxes littering the compartment. We loved those so much, she always shared them with me whenever she had them.

Tears poured from my eyes as I stood there, frozen.

"Oh dearie, are you alright?" The kind voice of the Trolley Witch called.

"I-I --. . . ." I stammered out. I turned to see all the kids watching. Concern was written across all their faces, not humor. Before I could do anything else, I felt my body pulling me back into my compartment and sliding the door closed. I stood there for a moment, catching my breath, running a hand through the hair behind my ears.

"Go, go!" The Trolley Witch said, ushering the line backwards so I would be out of their sight. I collapsed backward onto the seat, tucking my face between my knees in a ball.

It felt like hours later, but logic dictates it was maybe a few minutes later at most, I heard a knock on the door. I looked up to see the kind face of Holly through the glass. She pointed to the lock on the compartment door. After a second of hesitation, trying to figure out what was happening, I opened the door for her.

She sat across from me and took my hands in her's. "Are you okay?" She asked, her voice level and high, a calming sound.

I nodded my head a bit too fast. "Ye-yeah," I said, sniffling.

"You don't have to lie," she said with a small laugh.

I let out a tiny laugh too, the faint smile it left feeling nice on my face.

After a beat, her face changed a bit. "Just so you know, we don't have to talk, you don't have to pretend you're okay and make conversation. . . I just didn't want you to be alone," she said quickly, a relieved grin appearing on her face as she finished.

"Thanks. . . ." I said, locking my eyes with her's. After everything I said in our second year, she still showed me kindness, why? Why did she care if I was sad or hurting after how I made her feel?

"Look, Holly," I took a deep breath, "about what happened in potion class in second year. . . ."

"Bup bup bup," she said, holding her hand out flat, "water under the bridge." She smiled. I nodded, grateful.

She pulled something from her pocket and held it in the air, shaking it around a bit. "Pepper Imp?" She asked, revealing a box of, what I dubbed, the king of the confectionery category.

We spent the rest of the ride laughing and munching on the peppermint sweets which made us smoke at the ears. I supposed sweets always helped when trying to make friends.