Astoria went looking for him. She was admitting that much to herself. She didn't even need him to see her. She just wanted to see him. She was still moving a little awkwardly. The hexes Montague had used were very dark and resisted healing spells. Astoria was covered just in case. The bruises around her throat in particular showed no signs of fading soon. Her high-collared shirt covered her throat. It also had long sleeves that covered her arms. She'd left her hair down in hopes of hiding the nasty bruise along the left side of her jaw. She was also wearing trousers to hide the bruises on her legs, and she rarely wore those. She must have gained a stone since she'd last worn these too. They were a bit more tight than she'd have liked. She was just a mess. Astoria took a spot near where she suspected he'd be and hid a bit. Astoria watched and waited. She was ever patient. She would have to be. It was early still.

He'd been coming in from Diagon when he saw her skimming the shadows of Knockturn. He frowned as he watched her walk, knowing that she was unaware of him. She was moving stiffly, as if every motion hurt and was covered from neck to toe despite the heat.

Finally she settled into the shadows near his usual spot, peaking around the corner, probably in search of him. An unconscious movement revealed a dark bruise on her jaw before she rearranged her hair to cover it. He felt his teeth clench at the sight, though he couldn't have said why.

He moved close to her, close enough that she should have sensed him. She was asking for trouble, coming into Knockturn so obviously distracted.

"Who are you looking for," he asked, practically in her ear.

Astoria shouted and jumped. It was such girlish behavior. She'd probably just ticked him off.

"I was looking for you, actually. So here you are. All right then. Have a good day hustling people."

Astoria tried to leave.

He wasn't going to let her get away that easily. Marcus grabbed her arm, intent on finding out what she was up to, only to release her when she yelled in pain.

Knowing that he hadn't grabbed her that hard, he wrapped his hand around her wrist, not actually touching her, but shackling her with his larger hand. He frowned at her when she protested and used his free hand to shove her sleeve up her arm, revealing nasty bruises.

"Who'd you piss off, Dolohov?"

"Aaron Montague," she whispered. "He's going to keep trying until he kills me or I tell him where Warrington is, but I don't know where Chris is. He only stayed in my flat one night, and he was so... that man is broken beyond repair. Montague doesn't need to break him. It's been done. I knew Montague was going to try to kill me. I just didn't know it was going to hurt this badly when he failed to do so."

He was not as guarded with her today. Astoria was confused.

"He picked the wrong sister to torture. Daphne's the one who's fond of that sort of thing. I think I screamed and whimpered. Daphne would have laughed the whole time."

He remembered Montague, a Slytherin a couple of years younger than him, a chaser. Even as a firstie he'd been a bully, rivaling Marcus himself in number of fights he'd gotten into. He'd enjoyed causing pain at a level Marcus had never understood, always gaining a nasty smile whenever Pucey pointed him in a new direction. He hadn't joined Voldemort's ranks for some reason unknown to Marcus, though he'd been a perfect candidate.

"Wrong type to brass off, Princess," as he thought he was unconsciously running his hands over her arms and neck, moving her clothing out of the way in order to catalog her injuries. Montague had beaten her badly, using his wand to inflict damage unless he missed his guess. The younger wizard had never liked getting his hands dirty.

Astoria started shaking. Not out of fear though. There was nothing sexual about his touch. It was more clinical than anything, but she liked it. Jared Vaisey had made her appreciate touching. Astoria was very distracted by the intense way Marcus was looking over her bruises.

He could feel her shaking, no doubt in fear. And she should. Maybe she'd finally admitted that he was no better than someone like Montague. He hadn't bruised her as badly as the other man had, but he had hurt her. Almost forced himself on her.

Marcus released her wrist and stepped back. "Go home, Dolohov."

Astoria frowned when he let go of her wrist.

"I'm not afraid of you," Astoria snapped, even though that was the wrong thing to say to someone like Marcus.

She stepped back into his space. She had not slept with Jared Vaisey for Marcus to get all skittish and noble now. His disbelief in his own worth angered her. He was way better than the likes of Aaron Montague. He just didn't know it. No, he certainly was not perfect by any means, but he was not as horrible as he liked to think he was. She was challenging him. In public. Again. Astoria could not seem to learn where he was concerned.

Marcus growled as she stood practically chest to chest with him, once again challenging him.

"You bloody well should be, you stupid bint," he snapped. "The last woman who decided she wanted anything to do with me regretted it." He pulled the memory of the bint who wanted a rough shag and how he had abused her. It was one of his less violent memories, but hopefully fresh enough to make her sit up and take notice.

Astoria made a face at him. "Why do you always persist in showing me things solely to upset me, Marcus. I know you've had sex before. It would be foolish of me to think otherwise. It doesn't change anything about you and I. You still have to give me flying lessons. We're far from finished, and perhaps one day I won't irk you so."

Astoria put a hand on his arm.

Marcus scowled down at her little hand, pale against his darker skin. Delicate. Breakable.

"How'd you get away?" He hoped it involved her foot connecting with Montague's balls. The prat needed some of that pain returned to him. Either way, unless the bastard was dead, he'd come after her again. Montague was like that, a bloody dog with a bone.

"A neighbor heard me screaming. Montague had not put up a silencing charm. Lucky for me he's not particularly clever."

He was not jerking away from her touch. Astoria felt accomplished.

"You know where I live, and I haven't noticed you casing the place. I can't decide if I am offended or not, and don't even lie and say you don't know. I know what you did. You're more clever than people think you are. It often works to your advantage."

He hadn't been casing the place. Instead he'd decided that knowing where she lived was too dangerous and tried to avoid that section of town altogether. Now he felt a twinge of regret over the decision.

"Move," he told her. "Montague won't be pleased that he was interrupted. And find someone who does wards. Make them as strong as you can. Gringotts level. You might live out the year that way."

"Moving won't do any good," Astoria sighed. "Besides, I can't really afford a real place as of yet. It's just enough for me. Maybe one other person, but only if they don't mind sleeping on a twin bed with me. I do..." Astoria started giggling. "I do know someone who does wards though." I slept with him so I could be free to sleep with you.

She was giggling, as if staying alive was something to laugh over. Crazy bint.

"I would think your own life would be a more serious matter," he snapped, cutting off her laughter. "For you, at least. I could care less if you were murdered tomorrow, other than the fact that people have seen us together now. I don't need the bloody Aurors coming after me because they think I had something to do with it."

"Marcus," Astoria said in a soothing tone, rubbing his arm a bit. "I was not laughing about my death. I assure you when that day arrives, there will be no laughing. I'm not going to die... tomorrow, and by the time I do, no one would suspect you had anything to do with it."

He was a strange animal. Astoria wanted to dig her fingers into his mind again, but he did not like that. She suspected half her fascination with him were all his contradictions.

He grunted, oddly fascinated by her stroking his arm. He'd told her time and time again not to touch him, but like most things he said, she had ignored it. He wanted to deny that he was starting to enjoy the sensation.

"That's not exactly reassuring."

"Did you want reassurances?"

His glare said everything. Astoria was beginning to like that look. She wondered what he looked like smiling though. She was holding onto his forearm lightly, her thumb rubbing back and forth. She was getting away with quite a bit today. He was either putting up with her because he knew in some things resisting her was rather useless, or he liked it. Astoria was hoping for the latter.

"I'm not a little firstie wanted reassurances that Snape's not actually a vampire, Princess. I haven't been in a very long time." If ever. He wasn't sure he'd ever been that scared. Even as an eleven year old he had been physically bigger than his classmates. Bigger and ready to prove to everyone that he was strong.

He pulled his arm away from her, her touch had become too much.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Mungo's?"

Astoria frowned when he pulled away. She actually pouted at him even though that sort of behavior might earn her a good hard shake. Astoria leaned forward and took in the smell of him.

"I was. For two days. They gave me potions and sent me home. This morning, in fact. I like the smell of your sweat."

He scowled down at her. Two days in St. Mungo's was not enough. Not when she was still limping around in pain.

"Didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Astoria said honestly. "I didn't expect you to walk up behind me. I was just going to look and leave, but I am glad it turned out this way. I'm glad I got to speak with you, even though I suspect you'd break something on Montague if you saw him now. Normally I do not care for violence, but you can hurt him. A lot."

"I can," he agreed with a smirk. "If you happen to know where he is, I'll be glad to take care of that for you. Free of charge."

He wasn't sure why he wanted to feel Montague's bones break under his fists. It wasn't revenge for hurting Dolohov. He'd have to care about her in order to want revenge. Nevertheless, he wanted to have Montague's blood on his knuckles and feel his ribs crack against his boots.

"Such violent thoughts," Astoria said softly. "And yet, I still find no fault. In fact, I am warmed by what you'd like to do to him. I'll try to lead him to you next time. It would be one of the few times I could watch you work."

She should not feel pleased that he wanted to hurt someone for her, but she did. He would too. One day Montague was going to attack her at the wrong time, and Marcus would be there. She had seen it.

"You want to hear the funny thing? If he'd just leave me alone, he'd live longer, but Montague can not let anything go. He's upset with a lot of people."

Astoria reached out and touched him again. She could not seem to stop doing that.

"The prat never could," he said. There had been a girl in Montague's year, a little Hufflepuff. All the Slytherins had known that Montague was mad at her for some imagined slight. Not moving out of the way fast enough or something. Pucey hadn't maintained enough control over his enforcer in their second year with disastrous results.

The official story was that the Hufflepuff slipped on a stair. Her body had had bruises enough to make it believable. No one would be surprised to hear that her death had been all Montague.

Now Pucey was in Azkaban, no doubt still pulling Montague's strings, but unable to keep him on a tight leash. He was dangerous on his own.

"Why's he want Warrington so badly?" he asked. Maybe if he could find Chris he could pull Montague's attention from Dolohov, bring the prat right to him. His knuckles ached with the need to have the younger wizard before him.

"He didn't say. He was too busy hexing me and being creepy and asking if I'd let Chris have sex with me." Astoria snorted. "Right. Like I'd have sex with Christian Warrington."

He felt his teeth clench and tried to relax his muscles. She'd read too much into his stiffening, which she had to have felt since her hand was on his arm.

"When he comes around again, run. Do a blind apparation. Don't give him the satisfaction of enjoying your pain."

"Well, I didn't plan on it this time, but he snuck up behind me after I'd taken my wards down."

He was so tense it was practically choking her.

"Marcus, it's all right. I'll be more careful."

"Make sure you are," he said. "Because he won't stop until one of you is dead. As much as you annoy me, I hate him more. It's probably the only time I'll ever say that I prefer you alive, so don't get used to it."

Astoria just smiled at him. He lied so easily. Especially to himself. Her fingers moved around his arm until the rested over his Dark Mark. She began absently tracing the snake with one fingernail. Back and forth.

"You can come looking for me now, you know. It's all right for you to. That might be nice."

He shuddered as she ran a nail over his Mark. He would have thought that someone touching it would make him tense, but something about her touch was soothing.

"Go home, Princess. Get some rest."

"I'm disinclined to obey what is so obviously an order, but I know you have things to do today."

Astoria moved closer to him very slowly. Like she was approaching a rabid animal.

"It would be nice if next time you came looking for me."

She then did something that could have several possible outcomes. Astoria kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his lips before she turned to walk away.

He was sure his face was the picture of bemusement as he watched her limp away. Maybe if she hadn't been so abused he would have pulled her back and shown her that he didn't accept pansy finger kisses.

He never even considered that maybe it wasn't because she was bruised that he let her get away with it.

Astoria turned to look at him. "I fully expect to be punished for that later."

She disapparated with a crack.


{SUMMARY} After getting out of Mungo's, Astoria goes looking for Marcus. He's less than pleased with the state she's currently in.