Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m sorry, there's nothing more we can do. Unless you find and marry your soulmate then the curse will slowly consume you,” the healer said, her warm smile edged with a knowing sadness behind her eyes. The small office pressed in around Astoria, its bright yellow walls a mocking cheerfulness.

Daphne tightened her grip on Astoria's hand, providing a measure of comfort for which Astoria was grateful. Daphne had been with her for every appointment, every test, every failed treatment. This visit to St Mungos had been their final hope of a cure for the blood curse that had stricken her, an unwelcome legacy from their father's unwillingness to choose a side in the war. His attempt at neutrality had cost them when having spurned the protection offered by the Order of the Phoenix, he'd assumed that their purebloodedness would be sufficient to prevent interference from the Dark Lord. But when his followers had come calling, they'd left behind an insidious curse. Now they were stuck in this hinterland between light and dark. Neither derided as Death Eaters or revered as heroes. Falling through the cracks, forgotten victims of the war. 

“It's okay, we’ll find him,” Daphne murmured into Astoria's hair, as she sobbed into Daphne's shoulder. Daphne's arms wrapped around her back, cocooning her in a warm embrace.

She gripped into the soft fabric of Daphne's robe, running it through her fingers. “But, what if we don’t? Or worse, we do and he refuses?” she gasped out between shaky breaths. She pulled back, facing her sister. Daphne's dark brown eyes sparkled with unshed tears, she'd always been the brave one, pioneering the way for Astoria to follow.

“Let's not battle that troll until we have to.” 

Together they left the healer’s office.

“Thank you, Headmistress, for allowing us to visit,” Daphne greeted Professor McGonagall as they stepped out of the floo and into the headmistress’s office at Hogwarts.

Astoria glanced around at the cluttered shelves. The Quidditch cup stood proudly behind the headmistress's desk, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed through the large windows between the portraits that adorned every wall; their occupants' quiet snores drifted into the room from their positions resting against their frames. A collection of feather quills were stored in a deep crimson pot on the ornately carved oak desk. A pile of parchment was roughly stacked together on the floor beside the stately chair, essays on the history of transfiguration.

“Anything for former students,” Professor McGonagall replied, she gestured at an assortment of books on a low coffee table in a corner. “I've collected together the books you requested. I'm afraid you can't remove them from Hogwarts, but you are welcome to use my office for as long as you need. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. I'll have the kitchens send you up some sustenance. I always find a pot of tea and a biscuit helps with hard work.” With that, she left them in her office, pulling the door closed behind her with a click.

“I'll start with this one.” Astoria pulled the top book off the pile, Soulmates: Destiny or Chance. She perched on the edge of an armchair by one of the windows, opening the book across her knees. Scanning down the contents page, she flipped it open to a section on discovering your true soulmate.

Daphne picked up an older green bound book as she took her seat on the deep burgundy sofa. She coughed as a cloud of dust surrounded her as it fell open.

They both settled to their reading in companionable silence. The faint sound of distant birdsong and the crackle of the fire in the grate the only noise.

Astoria's eyes grew weary as she continued to peruse the pages. A house elf had brought them up a pot of tea and buttery shortbread biscuits as promised. The warm liquid and decadent treats were a soothing accompaniment to the afternoon. Maybe the next page would shed some light on her predicament. Her arms were heavy, her eyelids tired. 

“Look, I think this is it.” Daphne shoved a book into Astoria's hands, jolting her awake from her half-slumber in the comfortable red armchair. The crackle of the fire had lulled her into just resting her eyes. It had become more and more difficult over the past couple of years to focus. According to the healers this was a side effect of the curse that would continue to worsen.

Potential soulmate bonds can be discovered by the use of a simple charm. On casting by a close relative a mark will form above the heart revealing a clue about who they are bound to. Unlike previously thought, soulmates are formed not by accident but on purpose. Choosing to disregard the universe's choice of companion does not necessarily hinder happiness. Thus the decision to investigate a bond should only be taken after careful consideration. Many witches and wizards have wasted decades of their lives searching for the one, when they could have formed a lasting and contented partnership with another suitable partner.

“Does not hinder happiness, unless you're cursed,” Astoria concluded with a sigh. “Well I guess it's best to get it over with.” Under different circumstances this was not a risk she’d ever have considered taking, throughout childhood she'd anticipated an arranged marriage. But the conclusion of the war and the discovery of her curse had put paid to that idea. Daphne hoped to marry for love, but she had put her own search for a companion on hold until they had resolved Astoria's health concerns.

Daphne was carefully reading through the wand movements, her eyes tracking the words line by line. She picked up one of the long quills from the desk and practised the motions, the feather quivering at the sudden changes in direction. “It seems pretty straightforward," she said after a few more minutes of practise, drawing her slender holly wood wand from her robe pocket.

Astoria shut her eyes as Daphne pointed the wand at her. A tugging pulled at her chest. She gasped as a flicker of fire radiated out from behind her ribs. 

Daphne let out a shocked cry and Astoria's eyes flew open, red sparks danced around her. Then, suddenly they vanished.

“Do you think it worked?” Daphne asked. “There was a bright light.”

“Only one way to find out.” Astoria fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. Parting the fabric, she peered down at her chest. She pushed the cup of her bra to one side.

“There!" Daphne pointed at a small black mark under her left breast, Astoria leant forward, trying to move skin out of the way to see it better. “Oh! Well I don't think we'll have any difficulty discovering who your soulmate is.”

“What? Why?”

Daphne flicked her wand and wordlessly summoned a small mirror from her handbag. Astoria took it and held it so she could better examine the mark. 

A perfectly formed miniature lightning bolt was stark against the paleness of her skin.

“To Mr Potter,” Astoria suggested.

“Too formal. You aren't writing to Gringotts,” Daphne replied. She was lying propped up on her elbows on the green blanket across Astoria's bed, her feet kicked up behind her.

“I can't write dear Harry, I don't know him.”

“If this goes well, then you are going to know him. Intimately.” Daphne giggled as she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Daphne!” Astoria scowled at her older sister, warmth rushing across her cheeks. “You can't say things like that.”

“Why not, that's the aim isn't it? Marry him, and then... What do you think married couples do?”

“I know, it's just…” Astoria's voice trailed off, he was her last hope. She knew what was expected of a married couple of course, the necessity of an heir had been drilled into her from a young age. But the theoretical knowledge that you must produce an heir at some undisclosed point in the future was entirely different to the reality that this future may now be imminently upon her. Yet this same upbringing that insisted on the necessity of reproduction also expected the man to make the first move. The idea of proposing marriage to a practical stranger was hard enough, the pressure of what must surely come after was enough to make her head spin.

“He's nice enough to look at, and you've always preferred the rugged type. You spent enough time flirting with Theo in the common room to convince me of that.”

“It’s not that, I'm happy to admit he's attractive.” Who wouldn't be drawn by those sparkling green eyes and mussed hair? His picture had been in every paper, and since the revelation that he was her soulmate Astoria had acquired his chocolate frog card; it now resided in her purse. In the picture, Harry adorably kept running his fingers through his hair and smiling shyly; Astoria had taken to daydreaming that those little glances were especially for her, pulling it from its compartment and staring at it several times a day. “What if he turns me down?”

“I don't think he will.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“He was in my year.”

“If you know him, you should write to him.”

“I don't know him. We were in many of the same classes, but we hardly spoke to each other. I can probably count the sentences we exchanged on one hand. But he's nice, that's what everyone said. He always smiled at me and nodded in greeting. And he's a Gryffindor. You know the stories about what he did.”

"Fine," Astoria huffed, sucking on the end of her quill. "I'll start the letter with 'Dear Harry'."

“Thank you for meeting with me.” Astoria accepted Harry's hand as he rose to greet her. He'd responded to her letter saying she needed his assistance with a personal matter by suggesting they meet in the new coffee shop that had opened just off Diagon Alley.

The charmed windows looked across the bustling street but allowed the occupants privacy by preventing those outside from looking in. Each table was fitted with a freshly pressed white tablecloth and a flickering candle in a small posy of pink and silver flowers. It was elegant and understated. 

He retook his seat and she perched on the padded chair opposite him. The menu floated down between them and they both tapped their wands on the drinks they wanted. A pot of tea for Astoria and a cappuccino for Harry. Moments later the requested drinks appeared in front of them. Astoria used her wand to pour her tea, focussing her attention on that in an attempt to distract herself from the way her heart seemed to be seeking escape from her under her ribs.

Astoria sipped her tea, sneaking glances at Harry over the rim of the delicate china cup. He was studying the froth on his coffee, whilst pushing his hair back from the forehead with one hand just as he'd done on her chocolate frog card. The cocoa atop his drink had been sprinkled into the shape of a heart. 

With a double tap of his knuckles on the table and a sharp sucking in of his breath through his teeth, he met her eyes with his vibrant green ones. “So, you said you needed my help?”

“It's… I'm not good at this. Where do I even start?”

“The beginning.”

Harry listened intently as Astoria explained the origins of her curse, the failed attempts at a cure, the solution she'd been told was her only hope, and finally the research she'd conducted with Daphne. 

After Astoria finished speaking Harry pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and steepled his fingers together. His gaze drifted over her shoulder, as if he was lost in thought.

Astoria shifted subtly on her chair as she employed every ounce of pureblood upbringing to remain silent and patiently wait for Harry's response. 

“We're connected,” Harry finally said, running his fingers through his hair and mussing it up further. Then, he pushed back off the table. “I can't do this,” he muttered under his breath. “Not again.”

He threw some galleons on the table and without another word or glance at Astoria he strode from the room.

“He left!” Astoria threw herself on Daphne's bed. Her mascara had tracked down her cheeks. “Just upped and left.”

“Without saying anything?” Daphne twirled a lock of hair around her finger, turning to face her from where she was writing at her desk. “But why?”

“He muttered, ‘not again’, but what could that possibly mean?”

“I don't know.” 

“But I think it's safe to assume I won't be getting married anytime soon. So…” Astoria trailed off, wiping at her face.

“So?”

“I guess we best make the most of it. The time I have left, that is.”

“Don’t!” Daphne raised a hand. “Don't speak like that, we'll work something out.”

“What is there to work out? Without a bond you heard what the healer said. A couple of months, maybe six at best.”

“Oh, Stori.” Daphne flung herself into the bed next to Astoria and wrapped her warm arms around her. 

In the several days that had passed since that abruptly ended meeting with Harry, Daphne adopted a false cheerfulness that made Astoria queasy. Daphne had seemingly taken Astoria's throwaway comment that they should make the most of the time she had left to mean they should throw themselves into all manner of crazy pursuits.

“I'm not riding on a hippogriff, Daphne!” Astoria pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, every day a little colder than the one before.

“But it sounds fun, read this.” She pushed a brochure for a hippogriff riding classes into Astoria's hand. Hippogriffs were magnificent, but watching them in a paddock in first year was a far cry from riding one. She may be approaching a certain death, but she had no wish to hasten this demise.

“I'm not sure if…” A loud tapping at the window broke off Astoria's reply. 

“Who’s… oh isn't he adorable," Daphne squealed, as a tiny brown owl flew in, a piece of cream parchment gripped in its claw. It dropped the parchment on the bed, then did two laps of the room hooting merrily.

Astoria scooped up the letter, breaking the seal and unfolding it.

Dear Ms Greengrass, Astoria,

I'm sorry for running away in the coffee shop. Your revelation came as a shock, and it brought back painful memories. But as Luna has told me, that's no excuse, I shouldn't have left. I apologise for my rudeness. I am happy to assist you with your predicament. I await your reply at your earliest convenience.

Kind regards,

Harry

Astoria shoved the letter into Daphne's hands.

“This is good,” Daphne said carefully. “He'll marry you. You can have your life back.”

“Seems so, but it sounds like an official letter from a bank, not a love proposal.”

“You don't have to love him, and he doesn't have to love you.”

“I know, it's just…” Astoria walked to the window, the little owl alighted on her shoulder. It ran its beak through her hair soothingly. The sun was just dipping below the trees, the shroud of night falling across their grand neatly mown lawn. “I always thought there'd be a chance at love, that's all.”

“Maybe there is.” Daphne stepped beside her. “He is your soulmate after all. But for now, you being whole again…” Daphne placed her hand over Astoria's.

“You're right, for now, that is enough.”

Two weeks of owled correspondence brought them to this day, a hastily arranged wedding off the back of a dozen formal, stilted letters. 

Astoria's silver robes brushed the floor as she strode purposely through the ministry corridors. The tremor that plagued her arms the only outward hint at the curse that threaded its way through her veins. Daphne kept pace at her side, casting worried glances every time Astoria stumbled in her stilettos.

The official welcomed them into a small ceremony chamber. A neat bouquet of pink roses sat on a small table at the front. A dozen chairs were arranged in pairs on either side of an aisle. Daphne took her seat on the left and beckoned Astoria to sit next to her.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” Daphne said with a smile. “My little sister all grown up and married.” She pointed her wand at Astoria's hair. “Perfect,” she murmured as curls cascaded on either side of Astoria's face. Daphne summoned a mirror and Astoria admired the embellishments Daphne had added, hundreds of sparkling beads interspersed in her dark ringlets and glittering like stars. “You look lovely.”

“Welcome,” the official’s booming voice echoed against the walls. Astoria twisted, Harry stood framed in the doorway. Her breath caught, her heart beating out a rhythm against her ribs. With his artfully mussed hair and fitted muggle suit showing under his smart wizarding robes he looked the picture of a perfect groom to be. She rose to her feet and smoothed down her robes.

As his eyes caught hers, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. His lips quirk up, halfway between a nervous smile and a frown. The billywigs in Astoria's stomach intensified their party.

Luna Lovegood hurried in behind him. Her canary yellow dress covered in feathers was an interesting fashion statement. She skipped up the aisle and took a seat on the opposite side to Daphne.

The official bustled to the front, Harry following in his wake. He stopped beside Astoria, a few inches between them, but it might as well have been a few miles. Astoria snuck another glance at him, but he was staring resolutely straight ahead at a portrait of the Leader of the Wizengamot that hung behind the official’s head.

“Were you expecting any more guests? the official asked. Astoria shook her head, she'd only wanted Daphne here. Harry must have made a similar indication, and had brought only Luna. His letters had been peppered with things Luna had suggested, and although he consistently referred to her as his dear friend, Astoria couldn’t help wondering if there was something else between them. The official continued speaking, “In which case let us begin.”

He unrolled a scroll of parchment, holding it close to his face as his half-moon glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. “We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Harry James Potter to Astoria Selene Greengrass. Marriage is a legal contract that must be entered into freely and without compulsion. To cement this binding vow both persons must declare their freedom to marry and state their intention to marry the other.” The words were formal and unyielding. The owled correspondence with the official had helped them settle upon the simplest of vows to fulfil the legal requirements. Many pureblood arranged marriages apparently used a similar set of wording.

“Firstly, you Mr Potter.” The official held out his wand and Harry laid his on top.

"I declare that I know of no legal reason why I, Harry James, may not be joined in marriage to Astoria Selene.” A shower of green sparks from both wands confirmed the truth of his statement.

“And now you, Ms Greengrass.” Astoria tapped her wand against the official's.

"I declare that I know of no legal reason why I, Astoria Selene, may not be joined in marriage to Harry James." Another flurry of green confirming she was also free to marry.

“Please turn and face each other.” Astoria slowly turned, Harry's shiny black shoes were poking out from under his robes. “Join non-wand hands and place your wand tips together.” Harry's fingers were warm in hers as they gripped hands. More calloused than she'd anticipated, an unexpected roughness across the top of his palm. Her wand was shaking and Harry's grip tightened slightly. She took a breath, forcing herself to look up and meet his eyes. 

"I, Harry James, take you, Astoria Selene, to be my wedded wife.” Harry spoke clearly, his gaze never wandering from hers. His expression was unreadable, neither full of sorrow or joy, but tinged with a solemnity that Astoria hadn't expected, as if the weight of promises they were making were pressing down upon him.

"I, Astoria Selene, take you, Harry James, to be my wedded husband.” Her voice came out quieter than she'd wanted, barely more than a whisper. Her gaze dropped to their glowing wands, golden strands emanating from the tips and winding round their joined hands. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the official declared. The golden threads disappeared into mist. Astoria looked back at Harry, he was staring at his shoes. A sudden tug at her navel gave her the irrational urge to kiss his deep pink lips, but they'd agreed to remove that from the ceremony.

Harry took a shuffled half-step back, the tips of his ears flushing bright red. She dropped her hold of his hand, wiping her sweaty palm on her dress as she flicked her gaze to Daphne who was wiping away a stray tear.

“I brought you a ring,” Harry suddenly said, fumbling in the pocket of his robe. “It's a muggle tradition, but…”

In the palm of his hand lay a deep red stone set into a slender gold band. It was beautiful in its simplicity.

“It's not much, a family trinket really, but I'd like you to have it.”

Astoria held out her hand and Harry slipped the ring into her finger. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes still fixed on it.

The ceremony having concluded, Astoria stood awkwardly at the front as Harry went over to say goodbye to Luna. She brushed what looked like glitter through his hair, her face was set in her usual dreamy and slightly vacant smile.

“I'm so happy for you Harry,” Luna's voice filled the whole room, quiet though it was. “The nargles are dancing, they know you are just right for each other.”

Harry's face creased up in a frown, his eyebrows disappearing under his messy black fringe. “It's not…” he started to protest, but Luna laid a hand on his arm and he paused.

“Not yet, perhaps, but you'll see. They are never wrong.” With that, Luna leant in and pressed her lips to Harry's cheeks. A niffler rifled through Astoria's stomach, not even an hour and her husband was already being kissed by another witch.

Daphne tugged at her hand, pulling her into an embrace. “It'll be fine,” she murmured encouragingly into Astoria's ear. “Go and make your new husband happy.”

“I…”

“Just go, Stori. Look, he's waiting.” Daphne nudged her into a turn.

Harry had appeared at her side, his weight unevenly distributed so he looked like he might topple at any moment. She offered him a hesitant smile.

“Let's go home,” he said, gingerly taking hold of her hand. His fingers were warm as they wrapped around hers.

The swooping pull of apparition knocked Astoria off balance and she fell against Harry. He placed a hand on her back, steadying her as they landed on the doorstep of an imposing townhouse. Lying squashed between two muggle houses, the tingle of the magical wards surrounding it thrummed through Astoria's veins.

“It's a very well protected house,” Harry told her, almost apologetically. “I'll arrange for your sister and anyone else you'd like to visit to have access of course. But even though the war is over…” he shrugged his shoulders as his voice trailed off. “I like to feel safe,” he finally concluded.

“Of course,” Astoria agreed. Feeling safe in your own home was something she could fully get behind, knowing no Death Eaters on the run or vigilantes would come calling was certainly reassuring.

“I'd suggest not using the bell,” Harry said. He flicked his wand at the door with a murmured Alohomora, and the door swung silently inwards.

“Why not?” Astoria asked.

“Shhh,” Harry hissed. He placed a finger to his lips and started to tiptoe along the long hallway. A chandelier dripping with ornate crystal shimmered in the lights from the wall sconces fashioned as serpents. Gloomy portraits lined both walls, eyeing the new occupant with a judgemental stare. One portrait was behind a deep burgundy curtain, its gilded gold frame just peeking out from one edge. Harry pointed at it. “It's best if that occupant remains asleep, you'd probably be okay, but…” he whispered. Then, he let out a sigh. “I'll explain in a bit, there's a lot to show you.”

Harry pushed open a door and they entered a dining room. He closed it quietly behind them

“Sorry about the first impressions,” he said, spots of colour forming on his cheeks. “The house was left to me by my godfather, and his mother doesn't like me very much.”

“Your godfather was a Slytherin?” He must have been with all the snake themed decorations.

“Sirius Black, he was a Gryffindor, but the rest of his family were as pureblooded and Slytherin as they come. And his mother, Walburga, dislikes half-bloods and blood traitors to the extreme. So you can understand why she's less than keen on me.”

Astoria was familiar with some of the Black family. Narcissa had always been kind to her, particularly as it had once been thought she might be a suitable bride for Draco. But the other two sisters she'd never met, one was deranged and the other everyone had refused to speak about, it was almost as if she'd died. She'd always wondered what had happened to her, maybe Harry could provide the answers.

“Kreacher,” Harry called. An elderly elf popped into view. “Please welcome your new mistress.”

The elf dropped into a low bow. “A pleasure, Mistress Potter, a pleasure to serve one of such a noble house as Greengrass.” Then Kreacher turned his large unblinking eyes on Harry, waiting expectantly.

“Surprised?” Harry asked, a hint of humour in his voice. The elf blinked once. “Fetch us some tea, please. And prepare the guest rooms on the second floor.”

“Right away, Master Potter.” Kreacher gave another short bow and disapparated with a click of his fingers.

“You have an elf?” Astoria asked, that was unexpected.

“He came with the house. We didn't start off on the best of terms, but he's great now.”

Kreacher reappeared moments later with a pot of tea and a tray of sandwiches. Astoria nibbled the edge of one, she wasn't hungry, the angry niffler in her stomach had put paid to that. But when all else fails, she knew to fall back on the politeness she'd grown up with.

Harry stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea, the spoon tinkled as it hit the sides. “I should give you the rest of the tour,” he announced, rising to his feet. “Kreacher should be done with your rooms by now.”

Back in the hallway, Harry gestured at a narrow staircase. “The kitchen is down there, as are Kreacher’s rooms. When the house was built the kitchens were just for the elves, but now, you are welcome to use them if you wish.”

A grand staircase led up to the first floor. Several large holes lined the walls. Harry scrubbed hard at his hair. “Sorry about the mess, I removed some decorations and hadn't got round to replacing them.”

“What were you thinking?” Astoria asked, trying to make polite small talk.

“Anything but house elf heads…”

“What?”

“The decoration, when I first visited, had mounted house elf heads on the wall. Honouring their service or something. I assumed it was normal for purebloods.”

“No, that's just creepy.” Astoria shivered, what sort of lunatic mounted the heads of house elves on the wall. At the Greengrass Estate there was a small plot in the rose garden where they were given an appropriate burial.

“Kreacher was hoping…” Harry’s lip quirked up at one side.

“Absolutely not!”

Harry smiled, a flash of white teeth between deep pink lips. They looked soft and inviting, Astoria took a step towards him. ‘If I just leant in then our lips would meet.’ It sounded like Harry's voice, but his lips hadn't moved. His smile faltered and he shook his head, turning back to lead her up the stairs.

“On the first floor we have the library and the drawing room,” he continued, gesturing at a closed door. “A few of the books on the upper tier in the library carry curses, so be careful in there. I've been slowly sorting through them. This room is nice though.” He held open a solid oak door and ushered her through, the brief brush of his fingers on her back sent a tingle through her. But then he was gone from her side, striding across the room to peer out at the darkening sky across London. The moon peeked through the trees in the park across the road.

Astoria took the opportunity to look round at the room. A large wizarding photograph of who she assumed were Harry's parents was prominently displayed above the fireplace. Harry was the very picture of his father, tousled black hair and round glasses. His mother was beautiful with flame red hair tumbling down her shoulders and sparkling green eyes. She smiled warmly down at Astoria.

The rest of the room was light and airy, pale cream walls with a few photographs. Faces that Astoria recognised from school and an adorable little boy whose appearance kept changing. There was a plant in the corner, and two deep red settees next to a coffee table. A copy of Quidditch Weekly lay open on an article about the upcoming world cup.

In the corner of the room was a large, ugly black box. Astoria walked across and poked it with her wand, nothing happened. Why would you put such an ugly piece in an otherwise beautiful and light room? It must serve some sort of purpose.

“That's the television,” Harry explained, appearing back at her side. In his hand he held another black object, the glass came to life. Images danced across the screen as sound blared out.

“What is it?”

“It's muggle,” Harry told her, doing something to remove the sound. “I think you'll enjoy it though, all the other purebloods I've introduced it to have loved it. Luna especially, she's obsessed with David Attenborough.”

“Who?” This whole conversation was rapidly getting beyond her, and the niggling squeeze of her chest at every mention of Luna wasn't helping. Did they have history? Had he broken up with her in a moment of Gryffindor characteristic chivalrous madness?

“He's a famous broadcaster and naturalist, he presents programmes on wildlife. Luna uses it for inspiration for her articles in The Quibbler. They are on that shelf if you'd like to read them.” He even kept copies of her works? The snake wrapping around her heart gave a menacing squeeze. Harry headed towards the door. “Anyway, learning to use the television is for another day, it's getting late.”

Up another flight of stairs that opened out onto a grand landing with another chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It seemed to be a smaller version of the one in the hallway.

“This will be your floor. Through there is the bathroom, then you've got a private sitting room. Did I already mention that you are welcome to invite whoever you'd like?” Harry was speaking very quickly, pulling at the cuffs on his shirt.

Astoria nodded.

“And then there is your bedroom. Upstairs are two more floors. The third floor is unused, mainly storage, but you are welcome to repurpose the rooms if you'd like to. Then my bedroom and study is on the top floor. Right, I think that's it for the tour. Good night.”

Harry almost ran up the stairs. Astoria watched him go, a deep sinking feeling in her heart that he'd wanted so desperately to run away from her. She slowly plodded across to the room he'd indicated was the bathroom and started preparing for bed.

The single solitaire garnet caught the morning light that slipped through the narrow gap in the deep blue curtains of her new bedroom. Astoria twisted her wrist admiring the jewel as it gleamed in shades of red. She'd spent her life doused in the trappings of pureblood aristocracy, diamonds and emeralds draped around her neck. This simpler stone carried a much deeper, more precious, meaning. Harry's sudden presentation of this muggle wedding ring had taken her aback at the time. But from the way his green eyes had glistened, she was sure there was more to it than simply as a family trinket. Even if their current marriage of convenience, or more truthfully for her at least, marriage of necessity, lacked the other hallmarks of a real relationship. The fact she'd spent her wedding night alone being the most obvious of these.

It had been good of Harry to marry her. Daphne had wept when Harry's owl had arrived with the good news. But even as the cold chill of the lingering blood curse leached from her body, she couldn't help but wonder if this life was worth it. Was a marriage of silence truly better than the punctuation that death would have brought? But it was too late now to dwell on what ifs, as the new Mrs Potter and wife of a feated war hero, she had an image to maintain.

Her bedroom was elegant in its simplicity. A large charmed window gave a view across the park opposite, the enchantments muffling the bustle of the London traffic. Squeezed between the muggle houses, it seemed an unlikely location for a wizarding family with a history of offences against muggles. But, Astoria surmised, that afforded it a measure of privacy unobtainable with the manor houses of her childhood friends.

Harry’s elderly house elf had seemed delighted at the match, continuing to mutter about setting up the home perfectly for his new mistress as he'd passed them in the hallway during her tour.

Astoria pulled a simple pale green shift dress from the wardrobe. The silk was smooth under her fingers as she slipped it over her head. She wrapped locks of hair around her wand and used a brief heating charm to train it into loose ringlets that fell to her shoulders. A couple of beauty charms added a spot of colour to her too pale cheeks and tint to her lips and she was ready to face the day.

The ancient stairs creaked as she slowly descended. She willed her racing heart to abate. It was only Harry here, even if theirs was not a love match, he was hardly going to harm her. The promise of something deeper echoed deep within, a thread binding them.

The kitchen was deserted, the embers of the fire the only hint of earlier occupancy. Astoria walked along the side opening each cupboard in turn. Plates in one, mismatched cups in the next. The quietness of the house was only disturbed by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the room above.

A loud crack reverberated off the wall behind her. She screamed. The cup she was holding fell to the floor, the pieces scuttering under the cabinets and solid oak table.

“Mistress is clumsy, she is, dropping cups and them smashing on the floor,” Kreacher muttered. 

“Pardon? What did you say?” Astoria turned to glare at the elf.

“Kreacher greeted Mistress.” He clicked his fingers and the fragments of cup coalesced into one whole. “She be needing her breakfast. Mistress had picked up a cup, would Mistress like some tea?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” 

“Kreacher will bring it. Mistress should sit.” Kreacher levitated a chair to her and she took a seat. “Kreacher will cook.” With another click of his fingers, Kreacher vanished.

Astoria sat waiting. Where had Harry gone? After the war, he'd become an auror, that had been in all the papers, but more recently, even those had fallen silent. 

After breakfast, the day passed slowly. Astoria drifted from room to room peering behind dusty covers and tracing her finger along the spines of books that had lain, seemingly unread, for decades, if not centuries. She thought her heart was going to escape her chest when the portrait in the hallway started screeching at her as she knocked over the ugly umbrella stand. Who had decided that a troll leg was the height of elegant decor? Kreacher soon appeared though and silenced the offensive painting and then removed the trip hazard.

She ate dinner alone in the dining room. The warming pumpkin soup, lightly spiced with cinnamon was delicious but it left ash in its wake. A yearning hole at the bond she’d forged and yet now lay unfulfilled. Harry had given no indication what time he'd return, or even if he'd return at all today. It was a far cry from the early days of married life she'd dreamt of.

Following dinner she retired to her rooms. Putting on a long silk nightie she went into her private sitting room. There were a pair of deep blue armchairs, and so, having selected a book from the library earlier, she attempted to sit and read. But the words merged into one as unwelcome thoughts danced through her head. This home was hardly welcoming, even if Kreacher seemed to have taken to her.

As the clock struck nine, the front door opened. Astoria hurried from her chair to look down over the second floor bannister outside her room, Harry stood silhouetted in the moonlight. She gave him a shy wave. He responded with a brief nod before striding up the stairs.

His long coat swished as he walked towards her. He stumbled as he reached the top step, catching himself on the rail to maintain his balance. His eyes flicked down her body and a blush of pink graced his cheeks. ‘Stunning’ flicked through her mind in Harry's voice, a brief whisper that faded to silence. But then, with a single nod and a muttered “Astoria” he acknowledged her presence and he was gone, taking the steps to his room two at a time without a backwards glance. She looked down at her pale pink nightie, heat flashing across her chest as she realised what greeting him like this must have looked like.

She retreated to her room. The blissful peace of sleep came slowly and brought with it a host of strange dreams. Filled with images of Harry and what might lay under his robes.

Astoria's days continued to pass in much the same way. A simple solitude where she drifted from room to room, starting on her floor and getting her things the way she liked them. In the evening she'd wait for the door and then run to the landing, although after the first occasion she ensured she was attired in normal clothes and not nightwear. Harry never lingered, always greeting her politely and then retiring up the stairs.

Daphne came round on the fourth day apparently intent on asking a host of entirely inappropriate questions about Harry's prowess. 

“So, what's he like,” Daphne asked, taking a sip of the tea Kreacher had brought them.

“Quiet,” Astoria replied.

“Just quiet? You've been married four days, you must have more to tell me than that?” She leant forward in her chair, replacing her cup on its saucer with a clatter. “Tell me everything!”

“I've hardly seen him. He disappears before I get up each morning and then returns late in the evening.”

“What about at night then?” Daphne punctuated her question with a wink.

Heat flushed across Astoria's cheeks. “We've not done that!”

“But you'd like to…”

“Yes, I'd like to. I feel drawn to him. I thought on the first night, he might… kiss me.” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks were on fire. She'd dreamt of kissing him each night since then, his warm lips on hers. A lingering taste of chocolate on her tongue. The scent of grass in the air. Reminiscent of the whiff of amortentia she'd experienced as a student in potions.

“There’s a but. Why didn't you?”

“I stepped towards him and he turned away.” She stirred another spoon of sugar into her tea, perhaps the sickly sweet concoction would chase away the lingering bitter aftertaste of that moment. If only he'd stayed, if only he'd let her step into his arms.

“And since then?”

“Like I said, I barely see him. We pass like ghosts on the stairs each night.” The tea had lost its warmth, the sip felt like ice on her tongue. Each night his eyes lingered a little longer. Did that mean something? Anything? “He looks at me.”

“That's good, Stori. He's interested.”

“But then he runs away.”

“Maybe he's scared?”

“He's a Gryffindor.” How could Harry ever be scared? His exploits had been well publicised, he wasn't one to run from danger. Speaking to her, kissing her, sleeping with her, surely those things couldn't be more scary than walking to your assumed certain death.

“True, but recklessly running into danger isn't the same as getting your heart broken.”

“I wouldn't break it…”

“Oh, Stori!” Daphne wrapped her up in a hug. “I didn't realise how much you liked him.”

“Sometimes I think I can hear his thoughts,” Astoria whispered into her shoulder.

“What?” Daphne pushed her back, gripping her shoulders and looking into her eyes.

“When he's close, it's as if I know what he's thinking. Just little snippets, nothing major. But they’re confusing.”

“Maybe it's the bond?”

“Perhaps.”

“I'll owl Professor McGonagall, see if we can borrow some more books.”

“There are loads of books here, a whole library on the first floor. I'll have a look tomorrow.”

“Have you tried asking him to speak to you?”

“How?”

“Just talk to him, Stori. If you want more you'll have to tell him.”

“That's easier to say than to do.”

That evening, Astoria stood waiting by the bannister before the door creaked open.

He walked past her as usual, his eyes lingering on her chest. She'd spent ages choosing something dignified but alluring, finally selling on a deep blue satin dress with a sweetheart neckline.

“Harry,” Astoria called as he retreated up the stairs. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

He paused, turning slowly. “Yes.”

“Could we… could we talk?”

“What about?” Harry pushed his hair up his forehead, the faded lightning bolt scar glimmered silver in the moonlight through the window.

“We're married,” Astoria started. She gripped the fabric of her sleeve. “I'd like to get to know you better.”

“I… okay… how about tomorrow? I've got a half day.”

“Perfect, we could have lunch.”

Harry nodded once, then continued up the stairs. 

The following morning Astoria busied herself in the library, rifling through the books for any information on soulmates. Harry wasn’t wrong when he'd told her it was disorganised, it would take months, possibly years to sort all the books into some sort of order. Although, with the days dragging on at least it would give her some purpose. 

She slowly formed a pile of promising titles: Managing Your Match, The Inner Voice, and a particularly intriguing thin silver bound book Making the Bond Sing. Flicking through it, it promised methods to strengthen a shaky bond. It fell open on a chapter marked Echoes of the Other Person.

Once a bond has been cemented through vows it is not unusual for both parties to experience shared emotions, a burst of happiness at a pleasant event, a feeling of impending doom when the other is in danger. 

Was that why she felt uncomfortable on some days? Was Harry placing himself in danger?

Much rarer is the ability to communicate through the bond. This skill usually needs to be developed over many…

“Astoria,” Harry's voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. She jumped, time had passed much quicker than expected.

Hastily, she put down her book and brushed the dust from her dress. “Harry, um, I'll just go and change.” 

She made to leave, but Harry held up a hand. ‘Don’t, you look beautiful like that,’ echoed through her head. “Wait, please,” Harry said out loud. “We could just go, like this.” He gestured between them. “I don't want any pressure.”

He'd ditched the auror cloak he always returned in and was dressed in deep blue jeans and a green jumper over a checked collared shirt. He looked nice, effortlessly handsome. Astoria glanced down at her simple pale blue dress, it cinched at the waist and the skirt flared to brush the floor. Her parents would be horrified if she even contemplated going out in public like this. But then she looked back up at Harry. A faint blush was spreading across his cheeks, he chewed at his bottom lip.

‘I’m not handsome.’ Another echo. 

“You are,” she mumbled, the words coming unbidden to her lips. 

Were those thoughts she kept hearing real or imagined? And if real, could he hear her thoughts too? She'd not got far enough through the book to discover what brought about shared internal conversations.

“Where should we go?” she asked.

“Is muggle okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn't it be?”

“You’re a pureblood.”

“An educated one,” Astoria added a sliver of disdain to her voice, she had long since parted ways with any notion that purebloods were superior.

Harry shuffled on his feet. “It wasn't that, it's just, I want you to be comfortable.”

“I'm sure I can blend in in muggle public.” How hard could it be? “Is there an issue with what I'm wearing?”

“No…” Harry shook his hand vehemently. “No, you look… lovely.” He cleared his throat. Then, he held out his arm awkwardly in front of him. “Should we go?”

Astoria took hold of his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Magic coursed through her veins, tracking up from their joined hands. Harry twisted and her stomach swooped as the apparition took hold.

She staggered into him as they landed in a run down alley. Harry caught her, his lithe arms wrapping briefly around her torso before he dropped his hold. She mourned the loss of contact.

“This way,” Harry said, setting off towards the bright sunlight at the end of the street. “I know a little muggle bakery, it's lovely. Luna calls it adorable.” There was her name again. Harry paused in his step and looked back at her, his face creased up in a worried frown. “We're just friends, Luna and I,” he said. “I wouldn't want you to think…” His voice trailed off and he pulled at the cuff on his jumper. 

“Think what?”

‘That I want her, when I want you.’ Harry shook his head and led them out of the alley. The muggle bakery was on the opposite corner, the delicious smell of baking bread catching on the gentle breeze. “This way.”

Harry ushered her into the quaint shop in front of him. Rows of dainty cakes and generously sized bread rolls filled the display. An older lady with greying hair was behind the counter, her apron dusted with flour. “What can I get you, dearie?” she asked.

“I'll have one of those, please.” Astoria pointed at a caramel tartlet with a swirl of chocolate decorating the top.

“And for you?”

“The parkin,” Harry said, offering the proprietor a handful of coins. “It's delicious, you should try some.”

They took their seats at the table in the window and the lady bustled over with their cakes and a pot of tea.

Harry took a big bite of his cake, the crumbs falling from his lips. His tongue flicked out to gather them. 

Astoria used a fork to break off a small slice of her tart. The combination of caramel and chocolate was divine, she let out a quiet sigh of delight. 

‘You are so hot.’

Astoria looked back up at Harry, his gaze was fixed on the fork still pressed against her lips. She licked off the remaining caramel and a beautiful blush bloomed across his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. He must have realised she was watching as he suddenly jerked his head away, staring out of the window.

“So what do you do with your days?” Astoria asked politely. “You used to be in the papers, but now…”

“I'm still an auror, if that's what you mean,” Harry replied, seeming to recover his composure at this safer topic. “But now I mainly do research based work, although occasionally I have to interrogate suspects, it's not my favourite part of the job. I much prefer piecing together the clues.”

“That surprises me. I thought Gryffindors were all about the danger.”

“I've had enough danger to last me a lifetime I think.” Harry flashed a handsome smile, then gave a small chuckle. “I don't really want the limelight.”

“That's reasonable,” Astoria agreed. “I've always preferred a background role, unsurprisingly the sorting hat didn't even consider Gryffindor for me. It took more time than you might have expected though.”

“Where did it consider?”

“Other than Slytherin, you mean? Ravenclaw. I've always loved learning. I was happy in Slytherin though, it was nice to be with my sister.”

“I used to wish I had a sibling,” Harry mused. He gave a slight shake to his head. “The sorting hat considered Slytherin for me, too, but that was because of Voldemort.”

Astoria shuddered, she couldn't help it, that name that had been forbidden so long still did not come easily to her lips. “What do you mean because of,” she took a deep breath, if Harry could use the name, she could too, “Voldemort?”

“I sometimes forget that it was hushed up, but I was his final Horcrux.” 

She'd heard the rumours of course about how he-who-must-not-be-named had survived, but to have it confirmed so casually. The reality of what Harry must have gone through barely bore thinking about. “That's awful!”

“It is, but that link is gone now.”

“And instead…” Astoria took a sip from her cup, instead he had her. Another bond he'd had forced upon him, it was no wonder he'd run initially. “Instead, you have me.”

“It's really not the same, Luna helped me see that.”

“Luna?” That name again, even with Harry's insistence they were just friends why did every conversation come back to her. Astoria knew Harry had previously dated Ginny Weasley, their supposedly amicable breakup a year ago had been well publicised. But since then there had been no information in the papers on his relationship status.

“She really is just a good friend, I promise. Although, she's perhaps a little out there. Some might even say odd.” Harry’s lips quirked up in a fond smile. “But then sometimes she's exactly right. And when I spotted the mark she told me exactly what it meant. I shouldn't have dismissed her theory so easily. Eventually she persuaded me that you were telling the truth about your predicament.”

So Luna was the reason Harry had given her a chance, grateful didn't even begin to describe how she felt. “What is your mark?” Astoria was curious now.

“A little bird claw, for a hawk according to Luna, that is your name after all. It's just here” He placed a hand across his chest, tapping his index finger to indicate its position.

“Can I see?” She immediately realised what she'd suggested and clapped a hand over her mouth, fiendfyre racing across her cheeks. “I didn't mean, I don't… please just forget I said that.”

When she looked back up at Harry he was staring intently at his empty cup. His grip on the handle had turned his knuckles white. His lips were moving but no sound was coming out. 

Maybe now was the moment to display a little bravery. “Although, I guess I would actually like to see it, maybe not yet, but someday.” Her voice sounded so small, so quiet. But Harry raised his eyes to meet hers with a smile playing on his lips, her heart swooped.

“One day,” he replied. “Perhaps it's time to go home.”

They walked slowly back to the alley. Neither saying a word. Astoria's mind raced with things she could fill the silence with. She didn't want them to go back to barely seeing each other.

“We should do this again,” Harry said, breaking the silence and offering her his arm to return home. It was as if he'd read her thoughts, maybe he had.

“I'd like that, I’ve had a lovely time,” Astoria agreed. Her gaze flicked back to his lips. Their date, if you could call it that, had been lovely. And a perfect conclusion would be a kiss. The bond tugged in her chest, was she brave enough to make the first move again? Brave enough for the pair of them. 

“Harry,” Astoria murmured as she stepped towards him, ignoring his outstretched arm. She placed her hands on his chest and met his eyes with her own. He ran his hand through his hair, then with a slight shake of his head reached out to caress her cheek.

“Astoria,” he replied, a gentle lilt that made her heart flutter. She leant into his touch. 

His face tilted to one side as he pressed his lips to hers. A hint of cloves on her tongue. The scent of freshly mown grass. The thudding of her heart in her ears. She kissed him back with abandon, throwing her arms around his neck as he pressed her against the wall. The bond sang between them, warmth spreading from her chest. Even through her closed eyes the shower of sparks shone brightly.