Other Lives

IV.

A refined, calculated Pureblood woman would never admit ghosts followed after her.

Not when every street had ghosts of their own; indistinguishable spirits of all the people and creatures who had fallen under the terror of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters so that people like Astoria Greengrass could reign supreme.

Astoria had known that then just as she knew that now. Still, as she stood under the purple shade of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking up at a giant, mechanical top hat settle on the head of someone she had once known, Astoria turned to seek out these ghosts.

One looked like her—a young, thin girl with exhaustion bruising under her eyes. She walked down Diagon Alley, arms wrapped tightly around herself, looking down at the shattered floor to avoid the gaze of any surviving shop owner that might recognize her, that might take from her what her kind had taken from them. The thought itself had almost terrified her back in the direction where she came from, but the empty pit in her stomach that had not been filled in almost three days told her to keep going, to cross into Knockturn Alley and demand a favor in her dead father's name.

The ghost of that young girl had never made it to Knockturn Alley.

Not sure that's a good idea, blondie. Word has it Aurors will be shutting down most of Knockturn Alley at the end of the month.

I'll try someplace else.

How about Flourish and Blotts? I know the new owner.

"You always look uncomfortable here," said Darcy, tugging on the sleeve of Astoria's blazer like she did when she was a little girl, bubbling with a question she assumed only her aunt could answer. It pulled her away from a memory long buried in the back of her mind. "Mum does, too. But I guess Diagon Alley doesn't compare to Quad d'Oro in Italy, does it?"

Astoria laughed, putting a hand under Darcy's chin. "Quad d'Oro came long after, sweetheart. Daphne had to learn to mend her own dresses when the war was over and we lost our Greengrass fortune. Of course, it didn't help that she was banned from Madam Malkin's for switching price tags on some items."

"That actually explains why she had my Hogwarts robes handmade every year instead of getting them at the shop," Darcy said with a grimace. "What about you, Auntie A? Did you piss off any owners?"

Astoria's mirth slowly melted under the summer sun. "No," she said, green eyes turning a storming, Malfoy grey, "I used to work here."

"Where?" Darcy demanded. "Please tell me it was over at The Leaky Cauldron. Oh! It was Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions, wasn't it? You definitely look like the type of person who knows a proper skin regimen."

Astoria squeezed her niece's chin, letting out a laugh at the excitement dancing across features that were a perfect blend of Greengrass and Nott. Before she could squint and search for glimpses of Darcy's paternal side, she said, "All right, that's enough. Go get your things so we can grab lunch. I haven't all day, Darcy Ava Nott."

"Honestly, Aunt Tori, we were having a moment," Darcy said with a groan, but still took a few steps back to where Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stood. "And don't you lie, you love me too much not to dedicate all day to me. But just in case you are busy, I'm going to need you to clear your schedule. This lunch is going to take a while."

While Daphne would argue with a very sharp, judging tongue that Darcy was a mess, Astoria thought her niece to be malleable. Maybe Darcy did not always know which direction she was moving, but she did not let the wind carry her; she sprouted wings when needed, and made the best out of life wherever she ended up.