Mortality

She stared at the pile of clothes she had flung on the ground.

Nikolei had invited her to a local cafe but told her to wear something casual as he had another surprise.

Just what did you wear around rich people?

As she was pondering just wearing her T-shirt and jeans and calling it a day, a soft knock was heard. She turned around.

"What?" she hissed.

Antares frowned, rolling his eyes.

"Do you know where your brother is?"

" No. could be in the kitchen or America for all I know."

He ignored her jab, instead peering over her shoulder at the mess of a floor.

"Need help?"

She was about to say no, but one look at his outfit had her changing her mind. That man was annoyingly stylish with his leather jacket, gloved hands, and silver earrings.

"Fine."

He hummed quietly and slipped into her closet, leaving her to stare at the willow tree. He appeared again moments later.

"Here," he said, thrusting the pair of clothes into her hands.

"Thank you…" she said reluctantly.

"You owe me."

"What? You only helped me with my clothes!"

He winked, slipping out of her room and disappearing down the hallway.

What a Slytherin.

She carefully pulled on the black, flowy shirt and the matching slacks, slipping into her worn combat boots. She ran her fingers over her jewelry box in contemplation before wrapping a silver snake necklace around her neck.

Again, what an annoyingly stylish man.

And as she left the mansion with Nikolei, she realized with a start that they were matching.

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"What is that…?" she asked at the tiny cake in front of her.

Nikolei glanced at her from where he was eating his dessert, a crêpe.

"Oh, that? That's an opera cake. Don't tell me you've never had it!"

"I never really got the chance to eat treats."

It was usually reserved for Dudley, and then throughout Hogwarts she really only ever had treacle tart and candies. She rarely ate cake.

Nikolei stared.

"What?"

Anastasia looked up, grimacing.

"Nothing...just childhood stuff."

Even through the years of sharing letters, she had never opened up about the Dursleys or the war.

Nikolei sighed, dropping his fork with a loud clatter. He waved his wand, and a small bubble erupted around them.

"Anastasia...please. I know I'm not—

"Stop."

Nikoleo stuttered.

"I love you, but I'm not opening up about my severe childhood neglect or the war in the middle of a cafe."

He stared, frowning a little and glaring down at his dish.

"Okay." He sighed and waved his hand again, dropping the blue bubble.

"Thank you. Now, what's your favorite dish?"

The new topic helped the awkwardness float away but did not stop Nikolei from sending her small looks every couple of minutes.

"I have something for you." He whispered and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" she asked curiously.

"Dunno. You should open it."

She brushed her fingertips over the glossy paper and unfolded it slowly. She handled it with such care, like it was a prized earring rather than a slip of paper.

"A quidditch game?" she breathed.

"It's not much, just a small game—I heard you liked it."

"Not much?" She said, "Nikolei, this is awesome! The only one I've been to ended on less than fun circumstances..."

He smiled, the action showing his pearly white teeth. His front tooth was slightly crooked.

"I'm glad."

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The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows along the ground of the stadium.   Then, Brooms zoomed into view. They rushed past her, leaving gusts of wind in their wake. Their shocking pink robes swished behind them with each burst of speed.

Anastasia stared in wonder at the zooming brooms. It had been a while since she had been on a broom. The feeling of just being free felt almost foreign.

The game started, with Frances Quiberon Quafflepunchers quickly seizing control of the quaffle. They weaved together like a perfectly practiced ballet.

Anastasia nearly toppled over the railing as she watched a Quiberon Quafflepuncher clad in a hot pink throw himself into a dive to dodge a bludger.

The other team (Anastasia had not learned their name) snatched the ball in a flurry of robes, zooming through the opposing team and launching the ball into the hoop.

A burst of screams broke out, fans screaming and waving their banners and flags.

"Terrible." Nikolei muttered.

Her eyes scanned the field fast for a ball of gold. They landed in the very corner of the field, maybe 50 feet above a group of screaming fans. They hadn't noticed the ball.

"Look," she said to Nikolei, "the snitch!"

He glanced to where she motioned and rolled his eyes.

"There's no snitch."

"Yes, there is! It's right there."

She was cut off by Nikoleis's loud scream of triumph. She glanced to see the scoreboard and watched the small numbers change.

​She looked up, searching for the seeker. And sure enough, a witch in blinding pink was scanning the field much like a hawk.

​"Drink, Anna?"

She waved her hand absently, "Yeah, yeah."

The seeker swooped down. She zoomed down the field, followed closely by a bludger. The other team's seeker followed close behind. He trailed just behind the Bludger, swerving up and down to try and get in front of it.

Frances's fingers curled around the tiny ball, and she pulled into a staggering stop. A piercing shriek went up through the stands as the rough ball slammed into the woman's shoulder and knocked her off the broom.

Healers rushed to the scene, some close fans shooting cushioning charms at the ground.

"Shit!" Anastasia yelled, "That must hurt like a bitch!"

"Experience?" Nikolei said drily.

"Yes."

when the game ended and As they were taking the steps down to the exit, a frail blonde woman was screaming at the front doors.

"MY HUSBAND!" She screeched, "HE'S HERE!"

The man next to her grimaced and glanced apologetically at the pair.

"'I'm terribly sorry. Her husband is dead. I brought her here because she insisted."

"It's quite alright." She smiled.

The woman met her eyes, her mouth now closed. They were milky white, but Anastasia had a feeling the woman was not blind.

​The lady reached her wrinkled hand out and grasped Anastasia's wrist.

"What a pretty young woman you are," she crooned.

"Mama!" the man yelled, "You can't do that!" He pried her fingers off of her and led her out the door, whispering quietly to her on the way.

"Let's get out of here."

"Okay..."

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Anastasia wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, carefully taking the steps to her bedroom. The manor was dark and spooky. The tile felt cold under her bare feet.

​As she reached her door, she stopped at the sound of voices.

"Go away!"

That was Antares, his thick French accent prominent.

"But Anty—"

This was a new voice; it sounded…British. It was high and feminine.

"I've only just gotten here!" the woman whined.

"Stop."

"You stop love; I just know you want it! Stop denying it!" The voice purred. There was a rustle of clothes and then a loud bang.

"Get out, or I'll tell your fiancé."

Before she had time to even slip into her bedroom, the door opened. It was too dark to see anything besides the silhouette of the woman.

"Who are you?" she sneered.

"I think I need to ask you that question."

It was silent.

"Never mind, who are you?" The figure demanded again, "Are you close to Nikolei?"

There was a pregnant pause in which Anastasia said nothing until a loud huff was heard and steps started getting quieter.

​Just what was Anatres doing? And who was this mysterious woman?