Chapter 139: 3-2

In the end, Hermione brought McLaggen to the Christmas party. It was purely to spite Ron. Harry and I dropped our shoulders in dismay at the sight.

"Hey, I'm starting to feel like friendship is impossible for those two."

"Well... friendship might be impossible, yeah."

I whispered dubiously. How could things end up like this if they weren't jealous of each other? Apparently, Ron is going to end up with Parvati, and since this animosity will ultimately turn into something positive, I wish I could just rationalize it as necessary. But as someone caught in the crossfire, my only thought is, give me a break. Even after they got married, they would come running to our house every time they had a fight... both of them.

"Maria, that looks wonderful. You look so cool."

Suddenly, a light, airy voice, like a drifting cloud, called out from behind me. It was Luna. I highly doubted Luna had made it onto Slughorn's list of favorites, so she must have been invited by someone else as a guest. Who on earth would invite an eccentric like Luna? (Though personally, I find that part of her charm.) The answer was easy to find.

"Well, nobody ever said we absolutely had to bring someone of the opposite sex."

Ginny, wearing a brightly colored dress, gave a playful wink. She was cute. Incredibly cute. She was undoubtedly the fairest lady here tonight. The riffraff around us didn't even stand a chance. It felt as though the lighting in the room suddenly dimmed, as all the vibrant colors concentrated solely on her.

Her distinctly orange-red hair was swept to the side, cascading down her shoulder. Her dress featured a chic black base, with white lace and pale blue accents dancing across it. Her cheeks were faintly tinted, and her lipstick magnified her charm exponentially. I felt almost dizzy. This was—she was practically a fairy!

"As expected, you aren't wearing a dress, Maria. If tonight had been the Yule Ball, would you have asked me to dance again?"

"Of course, my lady."

I reflexively took her hand, and she let out a light, giggling laugh. Beside me, for some reason, Harry heaved a profound sigh.

"I understand how Draco feels now. I don't know what to think about either of you."

"I think it's nice when people you like get along. I would hate it if Ginny and Maria ended up like Ron and Hermione."

"That's... yeah, true."

The three of us laughed at Luna's typically offbeat remark. But in doing so, Harry was inevitably spotted by Slughorn. The massive, walrus-like figure jovially slapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Harry, m'boy! I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. There are so many people I want to introduce you to. After all, you are—just a little bit shy, aren't you?"

Implicitly teased about the days he spent dodging the Slug Club supper parties, Harry's eyes glazed over, staring into the distance. Slughorn then turned to Ginny to ask if she was enjoying the party, before finally looking at me.

"My, this is... such a pity. If only you were in a dress, oh, how much you would look like Lily! I had heard rumors that you disliked female attire, but... Ah, Severus! Come over here. Look, she is the very miniature of Lily! I would have absolutely loved to see her dressed up in a gown..."

A gloomy man in his usual black robes approached, making no effort to hide his reluctance. Instantly, Harry's mood plummeted to rock bottom. Looking Harry up and down, Professor Snape wrinkled his nose, his dark eyes filled with disdain.

"Harry is remarkable, Severus. He has perfectly inherited his parents' talents! Especially in Potions. I was astounded, I tell you—it's like Lily has returned to us. Well... in terms of looks, Maria is the true reincarnation, of course. Perhaps your excellent teaching had a hand in it as well."

"...Is that so. How wonderful. In my impression, however, it was quite impossible to teach Potter anything at all."

"Oho! You mean Harry was such a genius that there was nothing left to teach him!"

Interpreting everything in the most favorable light possible, Slughorn rejoiced prematurely. Harry was desperate to escape Professor Snape's gaze. He fully understood the true meaning behind "impossible to teach." By now, he was probably overwhelmed by the profound discomfort of someone caught cheating on an exam.

As if Harry's prayers had been answered, Slughorn firmly seized his arm like a prize exhibit and dragged him off to network. The rest of us were left standing there in silence.

—Those eyes. Dark eyes. Eyes like the bottom of a pit. Eyes like a moonless night. Eyes like boiling mud. Clear yet murky eyes. The eyes of someone I hated from the bottom of my heart.

"Professor Snape."

As if that were a cue, Snape turned his back to me.

"I happen to believe... that a dress would not suit you."

"Huh..."

I was dumbfounded. Beside me, Ginny was indignant. Forgetting even to soothe Ginny, who was grumbling curses about how incredibly rude he was, I simply stared at his pitch-black robes. Professor Snape quickly blended into the crowd. Even though it was such a conspicuous black, the back of his robes vanished as if it were an illusion.

"Snape really likes you, Maria."

"That's absurd! Sure, unlike Harry, he doesn't harass Maria as much—but—yes! His eyes! That look in his eyes is incredibly, incredibly evil."

"You think so? I thought they looked empty. And, you see, if they're empty, you can fill them with whatever you like, right? Like Pickled Nargles, or Plimpy feathers."

"Luna... are you sure you weren't just staring at an empty glass or something earlier?"

Letting the two girls' friendly banter wash over me, I absentmindedly muttered,

"Still—his eyes look like the muzzle of a gun."

"A muzzle?"

Startled back to reality by the girls, who looked up at me in perfect unison—voices, timing, and gestures all synchronized—I let out a hollow laugh.

"It's a Muggle weapon. You should ask your dad about it, Ginny."

...Though I wasn't sure if she'd get entirely accurate information back.

Guiding the bewildered girls, I moved toward the corner of the room. There, we found Hermione, who seemed to have fled from McLaggen, with her dress hitched up and leaning heavily against a chair.

"Are all boys—is Quidditch and, and—that sort of thing all they ever think about?! How utterly appalling, Cormac McLaggen. Even Grawp is more of a gentleman."

"That is all they think about. You can tell just by looking at Ron."

Hermione fell completely silent at Ginny's scathing reply. I was on edge, wondering when the ticking time bomb between these women might detonate, while Luna seemed completely absorbed by the heads of the House-Elves scurrying around our feet.

"I'm so jealous of you, Maria. Things wouldn't be like this with Draco."

"...I wonder about that."

Suddenly, an old memory of Malfoy resting his head on Pansy's lap floated to mind. To think such a dust-covered memory would be pulled out now—was I being influenced by appearances?

"Is Malfoy not attending?"

"He can't. ...A lot has happened. Slughorn is a collector who picks and chooses."

"But that girl was here, wasn't she?"

"That girl?"

I silently prompted Luna to continue with just a gesture. Luna replied.

"The Slytherin girl. The one Maria is close with."

"..."

A Slytherin girl who was intimate with Gryffindor's Maria Potter. That alone narrowed the candidates down to exactly one person.

"Where did you see her? Is she still here?"

"No. I arrived halfway through, but we passed each other then. I think she was on her way back to her dormitory."

"Thank you."

Leaving the trio of girls behind, I exited the venue.

Slughorn was a selective collector. Draco wouldn't be invited. Because his father was a Death Eater, and he himself was rumored to be a patricide. Slughorn only included those who brought him benefit in his inner circle. If so... what exactly did he favor about Astoria?

I ran down the corridor without thinking ahead. Not that I could catch up to her like this. Just as I slowed down, figuring she must have returned to her dormitory ages ago—I found her. Astoria had collapsed in the hallway, still dressed in her party gown.

"—Astoria!!"

I rushed over. As I supported her, her frail shoulders trembled, and her breathing was violently erratic. Her face was deathly pale. —Hyperventilation?

"Astoria, don't just inhale. Exhale slowly. Yes, breathe out. Calm down. Nice and slow."

"Ma, ri..."

"You don't need to speak. Let's steady your breathing. Listen to my heartbeat. Exhale to the rhythm of it."

"Haa—Haa—"

"That's it. You're doing great."

I held the girl to my chest and rubbed her back. When I was Harry, working as an Auror, I had dealt with panicked victims on several occasions. That experience came in handy now. Before I knew it, Astoria's breathing had settled.

"Thank goodness... Let's head straight to the Hospital Wing. Can I carry you?"

"—I do not need it."

She brushed my hand away.

"Astoria."

"I will not accept your help. Yours is the one hand—I will not accept. I cannot allow it. I will not accept help from a Potter!"

"Astoria, this is no time to be stubborn."

"There are times when one must be stubborn regardless!"

Astoria's voice was shaking. It was laced with an anxiety that seemed ready to burst and shatter her at any moment. —The girls had been backed into a corner.

"—Alright."

"Kya—?!"

I took off my dress robes and draped them over Astoria. Then, sweeping her up in my arms, I carried her bridal style.

"W-What—"

"I didn't see your face."

"...What?"

"So, I don't know who you are, and since you aren't in uniform, I don't know what House you're in either."

"......"

"There was just a sick girl in the corridor. So I helped her. —Nothing strange about that, right?"

Astoria grew quiet in my arms. I couldn't see her expression. Beneath the robes, her face might be contorted in disgust—or she might be fighting back tears.

Because I couldn't see her—I had no way of knowing.

"...In that case, surely my savior must be from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."

"Most likely Hufflepuff."

A stifled laugh echoed softly beneath the robes. I rocked my arms gently in response.

"If that's the case—then this is merely me talking to myself."

"......"

"It is not directed at you. For I do not know you. It is just... the delirious rambling of a pitiful woman."

Astoria began to spill her words, bit by bit. Surely, if her face had been visible—she would have kept her mouth firmly shut.

"I saw the people I love most in the corridor. They looked happy. So very... the two of them looked so happy. Ah, there is no space for me between them—that is what I thought."

"I—I was frustrated...! I felt so utterly frustrated! And yet, I also felt relieved. Because I was certain that my absolute favorite person had been freed from his burdens and would find happiness."

"All that's left is to kill—to kill myself. To kill my own heart. Even so, I am still clinging to life."

"My body has long since finished its rehearsals for death, yet my heart hasn't caught up. I was made to realize that—their smiles forced me to accept it."

"I am—terrified of dying."

Unable to bear it, I bit my lip. I bit down to stop myself from screaming her name. I swallowed it. Forced it down to the pit of my stomach. —Because if I called her by name, she would have no choice but to stand up again as Astoria Greengrass.

"Those two won't allow it."

"Yes."

"Your favorite people in the world will absolutely never allow you to die."

"Yes. I suppose they wouldn't. It's because they are that kind of people that I—ended up falling in love with them."

The girl shifted in my arms. I felt her fingers brush against my neck. Her hair tickled my collarbone, and her whispering voice was close to my ear.

"I love you. I love you both so much. Maria, I love you. I really do love you. My very first friend. Even when I was jealous, I loved you. That is why—my feelings don't need to reach you."

Her voice faded away. Her breathing seemed to deepen. The body I was holding suddenly felt heavier. Having poured out everything she needed to say, the young girl drifted off into the realm of dreams. And so—

"Sorry, but both Draco and I are arrogant, sore losers who absolutely despise having things taken from us. Therefore—no matter how far away you hide it, we will uncover it, and we will snatch you right back. ......Astoria."

The body of the girl, which should have felt heavy, was laughably light.

"Astoria!!"

"Do you want Madam Pomfrey to lock you out the second you get here to visit?"

The Prince of Slytherin, who had made a dramatic entrance looking as though he were about to kick the doors down, rushed over to the bed where Astoria was resting, acting as if he hadn't even heard my quip. He took her hand without hesitation. Astoria remained fast asleep.

"...The cause?"

"Exhaustion, they said. Stress."

"......"

Grasping the girl's delicate hand in both of his, Draco fell silent. I could tell a fierce internal conflict was swirling within him. His eyes spoke volumes.

"......Have you checked?"

"Not yet. ...I thought I shouldn't do it while you weren't here."

Draco remained silent once more, stroking Astoria's hair. Infused with deep affection—he then slid his hand down to her arm.

"...I will check the left arm."

"Then the right arm is mine."

"......"

"I can stop if you don't want me to?"

"No—it should be the two of us."

It was a voice filled with desperation and possessiveness. See? —This guy will absolutely never let you run away from him.

It was simultaneous. At the exact same time—we rolled up both of Astoria's sleeves.

"......"

Her arms were pristine—and perfectly unblemished.

"...Haaaaah."

Still holding Astoria's hand, Draco collapsed in relief. —Astoria was not a Death Eater.

"Thank goodness, Draco. Well, obviously. There's no way it would be Astoria. That being said, it brings our questions regarding Astoria's behavior right back to the surface."

"I couldn't care less about that right now. She hasn't been consumed by the dark. That is enough."

"Did you lose all your tension? ...Wait, really?"

I held back the urge to point and laugh out loud at Draco, who was slumped over the bed while still sitting on the floor, and just watched him. Astoria might wake up, after all—and it would be a disaster if Madam Pomfrey kicked us out.

"...Alright, we've confirmed it. It's not good for us to stay here like this. Let's go, Maria."

"Not good, why—"

Click. Measured footsteps sliced through the silence of the room. The aristocratic footsteps kept a steady rhythm. A girl with voluminous chestnut hair, clad in green robes, stood smiling with her back to the lamp illuminating the corridor.

"Ara... if it isn't the parricide traitor and the Mudblood half-breed."

"—Daphne."

Astoria's biological sister, Daphne Greengrass, stood there.

"Would you kindly refrain from touching my sister? The stench of patricidal blood and a vile beast will rub off on her."

Daphne's smile was graceful. And yet—it completely lacked the softness that Astoria possessed.

"...How are you treating Astoria?"

"My, oh my—what a stench. Beasts are truly incomprehensible, even when they speak human words. 'How,' you ask? —As family, of course."

Click. Click. Polite footsteps. For some reason, it reminded me of the ticking of a clock heard on a night when you never want morning to come.

"Family—a bond connected by nothing more than thin blood."

Daphne tilted her head at Draco's provocation. Up until a certain point, they had likely maintained some level of interaction. She seemed relatively willing to listen to his words.

"Yes, well... Until recently, I thought she was quite a difficult child to handle. Especially with her 'illness.' But now—she has finally become a proper child of the Greengrass family."

Daphne's lips twisted into a faint, eerie smile.

"If an immature child shows growth, is it not a sister's compassion to rejoice for her?"

A chill ran down my spine. The burden Astoria carried—the true nature of the thing driving her toward death—I could see it clearly now.

Astoria—was being murdered by her 'family.'