4.3 | Astoria ✓

10 | 2002

IMPORTANT

Oh, yes, this is an update. And a big one. This update is to celebrate my 7th wattpad anniversary tomorrow! I am immensely thankful for all of you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write fanfiction. Not many authors can branch into both and I certainly couldn't do it without your support.

To celebrate, I will be hosting an AMA on my instagram for the next 24 hours. You can ask me anything. About Draconian, Finite, Astoria or even about me. Catch me on my instagram story (HEPBURNETTESWP) for the AMA!

x Noelle

PS: This chapter is R-rated. Only for readers 16+. I'm sirius (sirius is gross) (but I really am serious).

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SHE WRAPS HER coat tightly around herself. It's chilly out tonight. If she cuts through the alley, she can make it back to her flat in record time.

A flash of white light blinds her.

On instinct, her hand darts to her wand. But she falters when the bright light coalesces into a singular unit. A...dog? She blinks at the Jack Russell terrier. Just looking at it fills her with warmth. It bounds around a little, and she swears she sees it bark silently at the shadows, before it trots over to sit at her feet.

"Hello," she whispers. Without thinking, she reaches out to it like she would a normal dog.

The dog leaps up, tail wagging, and scampers down the street. When she doesn't move, it returns to her, barks silently again, and runs back down. Her eyes widen as she recognises the gesture.

Follow me.

So she goes. The dog runs several steps ahead of her, across the junction, round the corner. Then it speeds up, its form becoming blurry, until it collapses into a swirl of white mist.

She stops. "Ron?"

The man in front of her lowers his wand. "Didn't anyone teach you not to follow strangers?"

"It's a Patronus. I figured anyone who can cast one couldn't possibly be Dark."

"Obviously you don't remember Umbridge."

She manages a faint laugh, but it falls flat in the silence. The air between them is tense, but she can't blame him. After all, it's been months—months—since their last meeting. And the last time, he'd had her pinned to the wall, kissing her with a relentless passion.

"So," she says at last, "how've you been?"

"How the hell do you think I've been?" he bursts forth, dragging a hand through his hair. Under the dim light, she sees that he hasn't shaved again. A faint five o'clock shadow dusts his jawline, and dark circles lie beneath his eyes. "I went back to the White Wyvern the next day to look for you. No one even remembered you. What happened?"

"I read Yaxley's mind. He'd arranged for the White Wyvern to be a permanent meeting place for him and several other Death-Eaters. Dolohov, MacNair and the Carrows would all be there the week after. I couldn't stay. I wiped everyone and got my parents out of the country as well," she explains, before studying him. "How did you find out where I live?"