Mortality

Anastasia slipped into the kitchen, where Nikolei sat.

"Where's your roommate?"

"Hmm?" Nikolei looked up when she entered: "Antares? Oh, he left a while ago."

"Do you even know what he does during the day?" She said as she took a warm cup of coffee from the elf.

"He has a job. Not very rich, I think he works at the local antique shop."

Sounded familiar. a mysterious handsome man who was poor and worked at an antique shop.

Tom Riddle would never leave her, she supposed.

She glanced at the newspaper sitting on the table.

"WIDOW FOUND DEAD."

She stared, looking up at Nikolai, who was eating his eggs without a care. She snatched the stack of papers.

"103-year-old widow Mariana Trench was found dead in a large patch of field. A passing civilian on their daily walk found Mrs. Trench's body and reported it to Aurors."

She scanned the page until the end, a sense of dread filling her stomach.

"Trench was found with severe lacerations on the arms, legs, and face. A large chunk of hair was missing from her scalp, and her right ring finger was sliced off and found fifty feet from where the body was recovered."

She quickly turned the paper, her heart beating faster with each passing moment.

there.

Right there was a picture of the old woman she had seen earlier in the week. It was a graying picture, her curly hair and milky eyes staring at her almost ghostly. almost knowingly.

What did she know? Anastasia had no idea.

Flashes of memories filled her head. The dead bodies torn apart by werewolves. the still bodies hit by killing curses. the unrecognizable students she had been in class with months before.

"Look at this," she demanded.

"What?" he asked but took the newspaper nonetheless.

She watched him read, his face turning with each sentence he read.

"Poor woman…" he muttered, "terrible way to die. She was so old too; she could've died naturally."

"Do you not remember her?"

"No, should I?"

"Look at the picture on the next page."

a rustling of paper, and Nikolei widened his eyes.

"That was her? Merlin, poor woman."

Nikolei was interrupted by a pop. A purple envelope sat in front of his plate. As he opened it, she stared at the woman in the picture.

The same ghostly eyes that had stared back at her in piles of rubble and crying students.

Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Nikolei.

"There's a ball. We've been nominated to host it this year."

"Do you do this every year?"

"Host? Oh no. We usually decline, but I think this is a good time to officially announce you."

"That's fine, I suppose. What's it for?"

"It's just a ball for the most prestigious pureblood families in France...but recently they've allowed entry to certain half-bloods."

She nodded.

"So when do I get an outfit for it? I don't exactly have anything to wear…"

Nikolei smiled at that."Perfect! We can do that today!"

---------

Anastasia lurched forward as they landed in front of a small boutique.

"You suck at magical transportation, don't you?" Nikolei laughed.

"I much prefer brooms," she grumbled.

They stepped into the building, and a loud shrieking noise went up. Anastasia jumped, her wand already out and firing a stunner. It hit a vase and instantly shattered it.

​"MERLIN!" Anastasia yelled, "What the hell?"

A pop was heard, and a small woman appeared next to them.

"It's quite alright," she said airily, "it happens." With a wave of her bony hand, the vase was back to normal.

The woman had large blue eyes and cropped blonde hair in a pixie cut. She wore a pair of twinkly robes with moving butterflies. It shimmered as she moved.

"I am Madame Drouin. What can I help with today?"

"Er—hello, Madame Drouin. I'm looking for dress robes".

The woman snapped her fingers, and immediately a tape measure was zooming around her, measuring everything from the space between her nostrils to the size of her ears.

"Hmm, yes. Green would go deliciously with your eyes."

​Madame Drouin leaned in. She was almost nose to nose with Anastasia.

"Back up," she said coldly. The woman only smiled and took hold of her wrist.

"You just wait in that chair, dearie," she regarded Nikolei.

Anastasia was taken to a room with a step and racks of cloth.

"Now just up here." The woman clucked, tapping her wand on the steps.

Her arms were stretched and measured, different colors of cloths held up to her face, and needles stabbing her in the arm.

"Now look how amazing you look!" Drouin squealed.

Anastasia turned around and stared. It had been years since she felt this…pretty.

The dress was bottle green with a reverse halter neckline. It was long, brushing the floor and hugging her body nicely. The outer robes were sheer, hanging around her neck and arms like liquid. They felt cool to the touch.

"Thank you, Madame, they're beautiful."

"Well, of course they are; I designed them after all."

With that she began to strip the dress off and fold it nicely.

"Thank you for visiting!" She called as they made their way out of the boutique.

Nicole seemed nervous when they got home.

"What's wrong?" Anastasia asked.

"Well, you see…" He said uncertainly, "I may have forgotten about the dinner with my fiancee."

"YOU HAVE A FIANCEE?!" She screamed, "And I'm just now knowing?!"

"I...forgot."

She stared at Nikolei in disbelief.

​"When is she getting here?"

"NICKY!" a scream vibrated off the walls of the mansion.

"Now..."

"NIKOLEI, I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

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Anastasia stared at Nikoleis's fiancée. She had curly red hair and dark brown eyes. Glasses were perched on her nose, and she seemed to have a sour expression etched on her face permanently.

And why did she look and sound exactly like the woman she had confronted earlier in the week?

The woman, Camille, seemed to recognize her, as she had stopped short at the sight of her.

"Er... so, Camille? Tell me about yourself."

"Camille...please?" Nikolai begged

Camille only glared. Anastasia glanced away nervously, running her hands through her thick black hair.

"Annabeth, what were your parents like?"

"It's Anastasia," she replied smoothly, "and you know exactly what happened to my parents."

"Yes...being the girl-who-lived does come with its downsides, doesn't it?"

Anastasia twirled the fork in her salad, grounding the metal hard.

"What about you? What were your parents like?"

"My father is a politician. My mother does what is expected of her. She stays at home, cooks, cleans, has kids, and stays quiet."

"Is this what it's about? The fact I don't look like a perfect housewife?"

"You could say that...you're just so…boyish."

"With all due respect, I had to too. You don't get far being the girl-who-lived if you sit around and do your makeup all day."

Nikolei slammed his hands down on the table.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Camille, I think it's time you left. Anastasia, just go. Go to your room."

"I'm grown!"

"AND IT'S MY HOUSE! GO!"

She glared, breathing heavily and scrunching her eyebrows in anger.

"Fine," she spit and stormed out of the room.

​