Astoria Greengrass watched her sister's retreating figure, feeling utterly flustered.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked Jon, her voice trembling with tears.
"It's not your fault," Jon replied calmly. "Perhaps your sister dislikes me too much to want to be with us."
Astoria's expression betrayed some disbelief, but she obediently nodded.
"Then let's go to the garden outside!" Astoria suggested.
"Sure!" Jon nodded.
Both of them stood up, holding their Butterbeer.
Jon looked around curiously. The main table was now empty. Professor Dumbledore danced with Professor Sprout, while Professor McGonagall was Ludo-Bagman's partner. Madame Maxime and Hagrid waltzed through the students, like two oversized figures colliding clumsily...
Another tune ended, and applause erupted once more. Ludo Bagman even kissed Professor McGonagall's hand lightly... making Jon shudder all over again.
...
The atmosphere around them seemed decidedly unharmonious.
Just to their left, Hermione Granger was pointing an accusing finger at Ron Weasley's nose, angrily berating him.
She looked furious, her voice trembling slightly; her hair had come loose from its elegant bun, and her face was contorted with rage... This action detracted significantly from her appearance.
Harry Potter stood somewhat forlornly beside his two friends, his eyes were clouded with a deep, wordless sadness... Cho Chang was not by his side, and Jon scanned the surroundings but found no trace of her in the ballroom.
Cedric Diggory, too, had disappeared—and Fleur Delacour was now storming off with Roger Davies in tow, as if the entire night had gone awry. Poor Davies seemed utterly bewitched, trailing behind her like a loyal hound, only able to utter incoherent whimpers—completely unable to form a single coherent sentence.
As she brushed past Jon and Astoria, Fleur shot them a vicious glare, as if they were entirely to blame for this mess.
Looks like things aren't going too well for the other three dance partners...
Astoria suddenly smiled happily, reaching out to take Jon's hand and childishly sticking out her tongue at Fleur.
Jon couldn't help but silently mourn for Roger Davies...
...
The two approached the entrance hall.
Then Jon saw Ludo Bagman talking to Percy Weasley.
Bagman said cheerfully, "How delightful! What's old Barty up to? It's a shame he couldn't make it."
"I'm confident Mr. Crouch will be back on his feet soon!" Percy Weasley replied with a serious expression, "He's been having some health issues lately and hasn't been to the Ministry for weeks... But even while ill, he still sends me owls daily with instructions for the department's work. His dedication is truly admirable!"
Unnoticed by the two Ministry officials, Jon and Astoria skirted the dance floor and exited the hall.
The front doors stood open. Descending the steps, they saw the rose garden ablaze with flickering lights. Low shrubs, ornate winding paths, and massive stone statues surrounded them; Jon could hear the splashing of water—somehow, another fountain had materialized.
"The scenery here is truly magnificent, isn't it?" Astoria remarked with a smile, surveying the garden.
"Indeed!" Jon nodded. "But I think..."
A sudden clatter of disordered footsteps ahead interrupted their conversation.
A familiar face appeared ahead... a hideous visage, all the more terrifying in the darkness; enormous, terrifying white eyes darted around restlessly.
"Hart... and Greengrass?"
Alastor Moody rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, casting a wary glance at the two of them. Simultaneously, he swiftly pulled the flask hanging from his neck and took a swig of its contents.
"Professor Moody..." Astoria said, her voice tinged with nervousness.
"I'm patrolling the perimeter!" Mad-Eye Moody declared with grave expression. "Holidays like this are often the most dangerous... because people tend to let their guard down. Dark wizards are likely to strike during such moments!"
As he spoke, Moody buttoned his right sleeve and strode away. "I must check the Forbidden Forest... That's the most likely point of attack for dark wizards against Hogwarts."
Watching Mad-Eye Moody's receding figure, Astoria suddenly realized: "Professor Moody makes sense... Last summer, during the Quidditch World Cup celebrations, that's exactly when the Death Eaters suddenly started rioting!"
"Yeah!" Jon nodded outwardly, but inwardly he was muttering... Of course it made sense—he was the one who caused that World Cup riot in the first place.
...
Mad-Eye Moody's sudden appearance hadn't truly disturbed them.
Jon and Astoria found a smooth rock and sat close together upon it.
Jon deliberately listened to the surroundings. He heard neither Snape nor Karkaroff, nor Hagrid or Madame Maxime... This made him breathe a sigh of relief.
Astoria suddenly turned around, stroked Jon's collar, and whispered softly, "Let me tell you a secret..."
"This tailcoat... did you give it to me?" Jon met Astoria's eyes directly, smiling as he spoke.
Truthfully, he'd already guessed as much. Finding no gift bearing Astoria's name would have been unnatural... so among the three unsigned gifts, it was almost certain one was hers.
As for the Ashwinder egg and the book Secrets of the Darkest Art, the chances of them coming from Astoria were minuscule.
"Yes..." Astoria nodded. "Professor Dumbledore didn't want me to tell you I'd be your dance partner ahead of time, so I didn't sign my name on it."
"Thank you!" Jon stroked her hair as he spoke.
"Actually, I'm really glad you wore it today!" Astoria lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper, soft as a breath.. "I thought I'd done such a terrible job, that it was so dreadfully made, you wouldn't like it..."
"Wait—you made this yourself?" Jon exclaimed in surprise.
He suddenly recalled seeing Astoria sewing something on the Hogwarts Express.
"Yes... my sister helped a little." She nodded earnestly. "It took me the whole summer, plus September and October, to finally..."
The girl's voice suddenly grew low and sad. "I was planning to give it to you myself the first time we went to Hogsmeade... but then... but then..."
The more she spoke, the more her voice trembled with tears.
"I'm sorry..." Jon said, feeling a pang of shame.
Jon held her tightly, then turned his head...
He drew closer to her face, their faces growing nearer and nearer...
Her crimson lips seemed to transform into the most exquisite temptation.
Her breathing quickened, yet she didn't pull away...
"Jon..." came her low whisper.
Then, silence.