NUMB | D. MALFOY {EDITING}

xxii. battle of the eight potters

« BATTLE OF THE EIGHT POTTERS »

        Anastasia rested her head in her ginger-haired friend's shoulder. A cold shiver took over her back as she quietly quivered, her hand wrapped around his arm as she sadly watched the sunset.

        In any moment, they would be parting to 4 Privet Drive to visit Harry. The war had started and Anastasia found herself standing in the right yet dangerous side, supporting her long-time friends without a second doubt.

        "Ron! Annie!" Mrs. Weasley called for them from the renewed Burrow. "Dinner is ready!"

        Ron glanced down to meet her gaze, she seemed sad so he squeezed her hand before guiding her inside to the cozy house that they shared like family.

        After the night Dumbledore died and Anastasia made clear she wasn't following Voldemort anymore, her mark had started burning uncontrollably. She suspected it was some sort of revenge from the man, but she knew this type of revenge was too weak, from a man like Voldemort.

       "Uh, I'm not really hungry, Mrs. Weasley." Anastasia said, trying to push aside the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

        "Are you sure, dear? You look tiny." It wasn't necessary a lie, but the woman couldn't stop feeling like something was wrong with her.

       "I'm alright. Thank you, though." She took a seat in one of the wooden chairs and rested her hands in her lap with gentle moves.

       The family began talking about the upcoming wedding, the most excited about the event was Mrs. Weasley, who couldn't stop babbling about the preparations with her soon to be daughter-in-law, Fleur Delacour. She was quite a beautiful lady for her age, of course she had to be from Beauxbatons.

        The girl still remembered the first time she saw the French beauty in fourth year. She'd been playing and teasing Malfoy in the Great Hall when his eyes diverted from hers to Fleur, walking with such elegance and confidence that Anastasia couldn't stop feeling jealous of the French girl. After all, she was beautiful and she would be a champion in the Triwizard Tournament, everything Anastasia wanted to be.

        Her stomach made a twist at the thought of Draco, and the hole in her chest became bigger and bigger at the memory of his eyes and his lips over hers. It made her feel foolish, to think of him that way when it was clear fate wanted them far from each other. And from the bottom of her heart, she agreed to it, because she wanted him to be safe and she knew that in another life, their moment would come. But they were stuck in this life, so she simply exhaled sharply and tried to join the conversation.

       When Mad-Eye Moody arrived, he wasn't alone. Hermione hugged her two friends strongly that Anastasia had to remind herself to ask the girl what was wrong, because Hermione's eyes had a small glimpse of sadness in them. The emerald-eyed girl couldn't bring herself to think of Hermione being sad.

       "Uh—'Mione?" Anastasia quietly asked as they walked out of The Burrow, the rest of the Order trailing behind.

      "Yes?" The girl seemed lost and distant, something that worried Anastasia.

       "What's wrong?" She finally asked, making Hermione to glance at her with watery eyes.

        "They don't remember me, Annie." The brunette instantly hugged her friend with support. "I—I did it to protect them, but it hurts so much." Anastaisa nodded, glancing at the adults around her with silence.

        "I know it hurts, 'Mione." She whispered, rubbing her arm in her friend's back. "But you need to know that you are not alone. I am your family. We are your family now." She pulled her friend in one last hug and then both apparated in front of what seemed like the Dursley's house.