Anastasia held a wine glass by the stem, cool against her palm. She brought it to her lips, sipping softly. The vintage was good. Anastasia had drunk enough to feel a faint heat behind her cheeks, while showing enough restraint to not end up with loose lips. It was more than could be said for some in attendance.
"Listen, that was a fine thing you did." Eustace Macmillan had one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other gripping his elbow, looking more like his date than Anastasia. "Makin' those kids feel safe. A fine, fine thing. F'only there were more wizards like you around, we could take an army!"
"You're not wrong," Harry said. "But then, if the enemy had a score of Tom Riddle's on their side, that would tilt the scales in their favor."
"You believe you're equal to him," said a woman.
Anastasia had been bored, to be honest. The night began with Harry telling stories while she was displayed on his arm. As they closed in on the second hour mark, Harry wrapped up the stories and spoke to people one at a time, as much as that could be managed.
Some came to him with questions. Most preferred compliments. While they weren't all as handsy as the drunk Macmillan patriarch, Anastasia didn't see much difference between their behavior and his. All of them wanted to get close to Harry and make sure he knew their names.
A glimmer of interest formed inside Anastasia. She sipped her wine. The woman approaching Harry now was familiar to her. Not as a friend, nor as an enemy. Acquaintance would be the finest word.
Eleanor Shafiq was elderly by the standards of a witch. Just shy of a hundred, she was beginning to develop wrinkles. She was tall, had a habit of walking silently, and made excellent money as one of Britain's foremost Potioneers. By chance the last wizarding war had come at a time when Eleanor was out of the country. Anastasia was surprised to see her here tonight. She would've expected Eleanor to have another coincidence. An extended stay in Brazil, perhaps, planned ahead of time in a way that simply couldn't be canceled no matter what troubles afflicted her homeland.
"Confidence is a good thing to have," Eleanor said. She was the same height as Harry, though thinner, and wispier. "It would fill my heart with courage to have a wizard who could match that man's prowess fighting for the forces of good. If you're as skilled as you say."
"Just as skilled, if not better," Harry said simply.
"I've heard a lot of words, most of them spoken by you. I need something more tangible before I can go placing my trust anywhere. You understand, I expect?"
"Perfectly." Harry had extricated himself from the grasp of Eustace, who was pulled away by his wife shortly thereafter. He could give Eleanor his full attention, which he did while raising his glass. "All I ask is that you keep your eyes open."
"Rest assured, they already are. You're fond of making statements."
Eleanor was looking at Anastasia, so she stood a little bit straighter, offering a shallow smile.
Eleanor turned back to Harry. "Arriving with a Slytherin on your arm. Cunning. I'm curious— if you had attended Hogwarts, what would the hat have said?"
"I'm not sure I understand your meaning, Mrs. Shafiq."
"You walked into a room full of cameras and salivating reporters, carrying on your arm a member of a family who stayed neutral in the first war. How am I supposed to see that, if not as a message? You've shown you aren't so picky about your friends. Even those who have been, shall we say, less than perfect in the past, are welcome beneath your banners. Such a decision won't go unnoticed. I hardly missed it."
Harry didn't comment on her interpretation, other than continuing to smile.
"Whatever I've done, I'm pleased with how it's turned out," Harry said. "Considering it's led to this fortuitous conversation…"
Anastasia slipped away. She was hardly on a leash, no matter how much she'd felt a showpiece at times. She went for the refreshment table laden with fresh wine glasses. When she placed down her empty one, it vanished. She picked up one of the waiting cups, all filled to the brim, before drinking deeply. Anastasia sighed.
It had been a successful night for Harry. Guests were going home now, about a third of the attendees having disappeared. The vast majority of those that remained had been pulled into Harry's orbit. There were no longer three groups, just a crowd with him at the center, one Snitch surrounded by two-dozen Seekers desperate to catch a bit of his time. Amelia Bones would be thrilled. Though Anastasia couldn't actually find her, looking at the crowd.
"That's the right idea."
As if summoned, Amelia appeared next to her. The Minister candidate was holding glasses of wine in each of her hands, looking down at the empty one Anastasia was holding. That was how Anastasia realized she had drained her fresh glass, guzzling it without meaning to.
Embarrassed, she put the glass down quickly, letting it vanish like the one before it. "Good wine is meant to be enjoyed. I let my mind wander."
"Enjoy this one, then."
Amelia handed her spare glass over. Anastasia accepted it, albeit gingerly. The heat behind her cheeks was growing stronger. This should be her last glass, else side effects might ensue.
She and Amelia sipped their glasses at the same time. When Anastasia lowered hers down, Amelia raised hers higher. She didn't relent until the glass was empty.
"Brave, to drink that way in a den full of press."
"I've given them better things to write about," Amelia said. "They'll make a small note of it now, then come tomorrow they'll find so much material in their laps that they won't have time to even think of my name. But that's then, this is now, and I have a question. How late do you plan to be out, Anastasia Greengrass?"
"I…" She looked at Harry's back, holding her glass more tightly. "I don't know. I'll be going home soon, I imagine."
Her attendance had been payment to Harry. He asked it as a favor and maybe he truly meant it that way. Still, Anastasia didn't feel she had the right to refuse. Not after what he'd done for her.
She watched him give the people in his vicinity a shallow, cocky smile, three of them being witches. They laughed at something he said.
Anastasia finished her newest wine glass.
Amelia watched in silence for a moment. "You'll be leaving the ball soon. It won't last for much longer, the way that people are heading for the exits. I'm asking if you'll be going home alone."
Anastasia looked sharply at Amelia. The redhead was beautiful, endowed in ways that Anastasia most visibly was not, especially around the cleavage of their dresses. Despite being older than Anastasia, Amelia was still too young to show signs of age, bearing a mature beauty not unlike the wine they'd drunk. Anastasia had never noticed these things about Amelia Bones before, but she did now, and they kicked off a heat in her stomach.
"The two of you have—?"
"Multiple times," Amelia said. "He's the best I've ever been with."
A woman who might be Minister of Magic in a week's time was asking if she could fuck Anastasia's date. And why not? It wasn't as if Anastasia was his wife. Just as Eleanor Shafiq had said, Anastasia was here as a statement. Harry had only looked her way sparsely since they walked in the doors. More than once, she had wished to be at home instead of here.
She could be. Amelia would snap him up, Anastasia would return home, and all would be settled.
It made sense.
So why couldn't she say the words?
"I…"
Amelia's hand landed on Anastasia's shoulder. She leaned in, smiling warmly in a way Anastasia wasn't sure what she'd done to earn.
"Bite his neck," Amelia whispered. "It drives him crazy."
She was gone straight after, taking another glass of wine for the road and finding a political ally to chat to instead, as if her prior conversation never occurred. Anastasia couldn't move. She'd gone as red as a beat, Amelia's words bouncing around her head the way Astoria used to jump on the bed when the elves weren't watching.
"Anastasia."
"Hah!"
She flinched and whipped sideways, taking a lengthy step back. Harry stared at her with his mouth hanging open. It was the first time all night that he'd looked caught off-guard. For some reason, that made Anastasia feel better than she had a moment earlier.
"You surprised me," Anastasia said. "Is it time to leave?"
"I—" Harry recovered his composure. "Yes, I think the night's reached its natural end. I apologize. I didn't realize you startled so easily.
Neither did I, Anastasia thought. She offered her arm and walked beside him. The voices that called out to Harry were given a wave and a smile. When they passed between the doors he walked in silence, Anastasia staying equally quiet.
They reached the front lawn, passing a handful of other attendees all Apparating away. Instead of following their example, Harry kept walking, so Anastasia walked beside him. He didn't say anything. The further they got from the front door the more her curiosity grew.
They went all the way to the Muggle street, turned left, traveled over a block, and left the gala building completely out of sight. The night's chill attacked Anastasia's shoulders, sinking its teeth into her like a feral Kneazle. Harry's arm left hers and slid along her back for a moment. A warmth blossomed through her body that made the night feel like a balmy summer eve. Harry's arm retreated once the magic had been worked. Part of Anastasia wished it hadn't.
She could do nothing but stop and stare when he took his arm away from hers and bowed to her, right there on the street.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
Harry raised his head enough to look in her eyes. "It's not fun being someone else's prop."
It seemed like he had a story behind those words. Anastasia didn't ask him to share. She was too surprised.
"It's no matter. I'm used to playing a role."
"All the more reason I shouldn't put you through it again," Harry said. "Eleanor Shafiq read me like a book. I mean, I wasn't hiding my intentions, but still. I needed to send a message and this was the most effective way."
She was efficient. That's why he had brought her? "It's fine."
"It's not," Harry said. "At least let me apologize."
Anastasia's heart skipped a beat.
"Very well."
She wasn't sure if her attempt to sound calm succeeded.
O-O-O
Anastasia's nose twitched. It was being assaulted to the point of stinging. The place Harry brought her was full of the sharp smell of the chemicals that Muggles used to keep things clean. She wasn't used to them, nor was she used to the fiery smell wafting off the bowl in front of her.
Sitting on the other side of a brown leather booth, Harry broke strange wooden utensils in half, forming two sticks that he wedged between his fingers. There was a bowl in front of him as well, which he'd filled with an additional dumping of flaked red peppers. Anastasia thought he was a bit mad. Her bowl smelled deadly already and he wanted to add more peppers?
"I told you to order it mild," Harry said.
"I can handle Muggle food."
He did a poor job hiding his smile, if he was trying at all. "Whatever you say, Lady Greengrass."
She shivered. "Don't call me that. Anastasia is fine."
She was only a Greengrass by marriage. Now that her husband was far enough away, she could freely admit to disliking the name, at least in reference to herself. Lady Greengrass was the wife of Aquinas. Anastasia was a woman who had been a girl once, with a life and future of her own.
"Anastasia," Harry said. Nothing else. She didn't mind— she enjoyed hearing it from his lips.
They were one of two groups inside the restaurant. It was almost one in the morning. Much later than the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks would be open, but Muggles had always been adventurous with these kinds of things. The other occupants were a group in their early twenties drunker than Eustace Macmillan, slurring to each other over bowls of noodles. The proprietress, a short woman of Asian descent, had fetched their order from her husband in the kitchen before she brought it to their table. After a moment spent staring at her own pair of wooden sticks, Anastasia instead clutched a spoon that had been provided. Harry's nod showed he agreed with the choice.
"Eat slowly," he warned her.
She lifted noodles from the broth, clumsily bringing them toward her lips. It was like a cross between pasta and soup, something she'd never considered as a combination until tonight.
Anastasia managed a bite. A wave hit her taste buds. A salty flavor lingered there that made her eyes widen, surprised how pleasantly the broth complimented the noodle. She opened her mouth to share her enjoyment— and froze.
She stuck her tongue all the way out of her mouth. Dropping her spoon, she scooped up her water glass and drank three rapid gulps. Some ran down her face but she couldn't pay attention to that. Her mouth was on fire!
Harry snorted. Anastasia looked at him, still holding her water glass up to her face, tilted forward so that she could submerge her tongue.
"Told you," Harry said, smiling apologetically.
Anastasia slowly lowered her glass, bringing her tongue back inside her mouth. She glowered at him, knowing he was right and refusing to say it out loud.
"Next time, we'll get you something with less of a kick," Harry said. "There are mild options available once pride has been set aside."
"There will be a next time?" Anastasia asked.
"Only if you want," Harry said.
"Will I have to sit through another gala in order to earn it?"
"Only if you want."
The two of them went silent. "Try to eat a bit more," Harry said. "You build a tolerance the more you have."
She did so. The fact that she loved the taste was helpful pushing past the pain. Harry entertained her further by telling stories.
"Did you know, your younger daughter visited me recently?"
"Astoria?"
Harry nodded. "She cornered me in a hallway and told me that she'd figured out my nefarious wiles. I don't hold it against her. She was looking out for her sister in the only way she thought she could."
"She's always been a bright girl," Anastasia said. "She's scored top marks every year since she began at Hogwarts. Professors have said she shows an advanced grasp of magic, already capable of spells you wouldn't expect from a girl her age. I've seen very little of it. She gets shy at home and refuses to do even simple magic in front of me. I believe she's embarrassed that she may get it wrong and lower my opinion of her. As if that would be my response."
Harry was looking at her in a funny way. She thought she had gotten broth on her face, so wiped it with her napkin, only to come up with nothing.
"You're smiling," Harry said.
"You must have seen me smile before."
"A few times. I've never seen that smile."
Anastasia was embarrassed. Perhaps that gave her the courage to hit back, eager to drag him down with her. "You're one to talk. It's as if you're a different person than the man at the gala!"
The boasts and smirks had been left with Eleanor Shafiq and the rest of the partygoers. They'd been replaced by a man who unflinchingly bowed to beg her forgiveness, and gave her soft smiles across a dingy restaurant's mildly-stained table.
"I like you better this way," Anastasia said.
"So do I," Harry said. His smile looked a bit sad now.
Anastasia didn't know what to say to that, so she avoided replying. They finished their noodles — there hadn't been much left — and rose. Harry left Muggle bills on the table. He extended his arm and offered to Apparate her home. Silently, Anastasia gave him her elbow.
The part of Manchester he'd taken her to was too busy to Apparate off of the main street. Youths that would have barely been out of Hogwarts if they'd been magical moved between pubs alone or in groups. Some of them were singing. All of them were drunk, but not drunk enough to miss a couple teleporting away in front of their eyes. To find a secluded alley required a bit of walking, during which Anastasia moved closer to Harry. If he noticed, he didn't comment.
Finally, they found one that would accommodate them. Harry's warming charm had worn off a long time ago. She used his body for warmth instead, leaning into him, and didn't mind how much less effective it was. Anastasia's heart pounded. Amelia came to her mind, including the conversation they shared.
"Do you think she'll win?"
"Pardon?" Harry had been about to Apparate before her voice distracted him. "Amelia?"
"Yes, her."
"She'll win."
"Because she has you on her side?"
"That's making it easier. I helped her tonight, sure," Harry said. "Mark my words though, she'd eat a man like Scrimgeour alive even if I never existed. She'll be working on something of her own. Being idle isn't in her character."
Yes, Anastasia could believe that. Amelia was an unmarried woman who ducked all her suitors and scaled the government like it was made for her. If Harry was to be believed, she would soon be minister. What a witch, Anastasia thought. The kind of person who could grab an almost-stranger by the shoulder and whisper in her ear— Go for his neck.
"Ready to go?" Harry asked.
Anastasia didn't answer. She barely heard him. Her mother used to call her headstrong, back before she passed. From the scattered memories she carried of her youth her mother had been right. What happened to Anastasia Burke, the girl who used to roll her dresses up in order to kick gnomes around the yard? Her father hated that, almost as much as he hated Anastasia's game of setting Chocolate Frogs loose in the house and hunting them for sport, but both always made her mother laugh. She'd had other games, too. When did she forget how to play?
If it was Anastasia Burke standing in an alley with a handsome wizard, she wouldn't have thought twice. Worse than forgetting how to play, somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten how to act.
"I'm going to Apparate now," Harry warned her gently, having received no response.
He got her answer this time. Harry stumbled, his back hitting the wall, as Anastasia's weight hit him in an unprompted burst.
Her lunge carried both of them away from the middle of the alley. With her limbs, Anastasia scaled him the way she once climbed trellised fences, until her teeth could meet his neck. She bit him with the force of a vampire, as if she could truly suck blood.
Harry Potter moaned.
He seemed as surprised about it as she was. Their eyes met, spit from Anastasia's open mouth connecting her to the fresh hickey she'd left. She giggled, then laughed. "Amelia was right!"
"It seems you've been conspiring while I took my eyes off you," Harry said.
"As you deserve, for not giving me enough attention!" Anastasia said, flushed.
"Fair enough," Harry said huskily.
He was leaning in. Before Anastasia could think, his lips were on her lips, where they stayed as his magic whisked them out of the alley.
The destination wasn't Greengrass Manor.