you say forget, but I remind you (9/1998)

[attr="class","imagez"]

[attr="class","title-astoria"]I'm Alive

[attr="class","subtitle-astoria"] I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive
And I feed on the fear that's behind your eyes
And I need you to need me, it's no surprise

[attr="class","wordz-astoria"]
Astoria had almost not returned to Hogwarts.

Draco would surely not be back, and she was unsure if Kate would be. They were the only people who truly mattered, as Daphne and Eudora had been missing since the Battle. She might have thought they were dead, but she'd seen them in the rush to the Hog's Head. They'd gotten to safety, and somehow she'd lost them. Perhaps they'd fled to Turkey to the Mirzas, or to the Osmanoğlus in Cyprus. She could follow them, but she was still underage, the Trace not yet broken.

She could only live so long on her own, after all. Those two weeks after the Battle had been hellish, where she'd lived between the edges of the school and the forest. She'd ran, once she'd identified her parents. She'd ran, and. . .no one had followed her. Food had not been difficult, and she'd taken from the destroyed greenhouses. Being a Greengrass had helped then-- she'd been able to know what was roughly edible, and had known enough what plants could be drunk from. Sprout had seen her, maybe-- Sprout surely knew that someone had been eating from her gardens, at least.

But she'd been able to gather enough confidence at some point to seek someone out, to find her way to a Floo, and she'd stumbled out, hungry, desperate, thirsty, and weak. She hadn't been the pampered daughter she'd once been, the girl who'd taken simple joy in making greens grow. But what could she say about it? How might she express this loss? After all, she had been on the giving end of a Cruciactus, had been one of Alecto and Amycus Carrow's favored students for her work in detentions. She'd torn her childhood up and burnt it, and there were many of her classmates who were child soldiers, who'd participated, who'd fought and died.

So no, she hadn't wanted to come back to that, to face the judgement of her peers. It would not matter, that she was only as good as she had to be, that if she was not one of the best in her year, she could not rely on reputation and rumors to help play-act the Curse for the younger students, as there were far too many times she'd cast the Curse in trueness. It did not matter that if she had refused to participate, she would be facing the other end of someone's wand, as there were many who had made that choice. She was a coward, and that was it.

But in Hogwarts, there was food and drink a plenty. There was magic, and while there would be those who would surely take out what her parents had done unto her, there was. . . she was sixteen, and Hogwarts was home. It had been nerves only, in the end what had driven her to return and standing at the platform, lost among the hustle and bustle, she was glad she did. Maybe this would be a good year-- maybe this was a sign that nothing would happen.

And then blonde caught her eye, framed by deep brown. Daphne and Eudora stood at the platform, her sisters seemingly unworried about all. Daphne was angelic in white, innocent and illustrated by light, her golden waves so much like their father's catching the light. Eudora, thirteen and a half with their mother's dark hair and their father's blue eyes. Emotions pinched in Astoria's chest seeing them-- their skin was as pale as they usually kept it, so they had not been out of the country, so where, where, where--

Daphne caught her eyes, and her lips curled up. Delight? Astoria hoped. Satisfaction? Pleasure?

"Where have you been," Astoria tugged out, directing her question to Daphne. She spoke in Welsh, as there were few around who would care to translate "I have been worried sick, please tell me you've been--"

But it was Eudora who answered, a new colder light in her eyes. They were usually as warm as the soil in the greenhouses, pale as they were. It had always been the joke at the table-- pale-eyed Eudora with the sun in her eyes, dark-eyed Daphne with ice. "Away," was the only response she gave, her English cold.

"Away," Astoria repeated, still in Welsh, "I have been going mad, tell me you've been safe, tell me you've been eating, say you--"

"No," Eudora glanced to Daphne for approval, and Daphne gave a short nod.  

"I'm not asking you, Eudora Cerridwen," Astoria tried again, gathering her thoughts. If Daphne did not-- no, surely she would. They were sisters, they were Greengrasses three, alone in the world. Surely Daphne would say something to her. "But if you would like to answer, tell me if Daphne took care of you, that you were doing better than I have been, because I have worried for both of you since the battle. I did not know if you were dead or alive, I did not know if you were kidnapped--"

Daphne scoffed at that, and Astoria's spirits rose. Acknowledgement at last, Daphne would say something, answer her. . .and it was not to be, as Eudora gave their mother's laugh and responded again, still in English. "Unnecessary."

"Mother and father are dead, did you know that? I had to identify them, and you were missing, and I was terrified something had happened to you." Astoria switched to Turkish-- surely this they would not deny! Surely Daphne would speak in that, showing her mastery of the tongue to rub it in. Or at least acknowledge that yes, legally she was the Greengrass matriarch at such a young age, no matter what Shacklebolt might impose on them.

Something flickered in Daphne's eyes, and Eudora turned away. Guilt, perhaps? Astoria's heart rose. Eudora gave a sigh, glancing at their older sister. "I shall write you," she said, smiling up at her, and Astoria's heart twisted. She wanted to slap her sister, to shake her. She was there too, she needed them-- couldn't they see? Eudora would surely have to pay her more mind when they were in school together, and Daphne. . .Daphne was only playing some sort of cruel game, to punish Astoria for not fleeing to her side, she was sure. 

Daphne glanced at her, and hope rose. She'd forgotten, sometimes, of how kind Daphne might be at times, the books in her room, the advice on dress robes, the soft touch in her hair, and Daphne's eyes had a curious softness Astoria had only seen Daphne have around the most delicate of flora. But it was over, as Daphne's eyes focused, looking past Astoria, looking through her, and back to their younger sister.

"See that you do." Daphne's voice had shifted since Astoria had last heard it, huskier, older. Astoria dug a nail into her palm to stop from tearing up, to stop from demanding once more she be paid attention to like some child. As Eudora climbed the steps to the train, Daphne's eyes once more caught Astoria's, holding them. 

"Daphne." Astoria tried again, but her sister only shook her head. She'd let her down, once more, hadn't she? She'd. . .she'd have to make it up again, somehow. She simply had to.

[attr="class","tags-astoria"]☆  ☆