4 The Melancholy of Astoria Greengrass

Chapter 4. The Melancholy of Astoria Greengrass

Lily Evans

It's 11:00 in the morning when she reaches Diagon Alley.

She is here by 9:00 on most days. But since it's Saturday, she allowed herself the rare luxury of sleeping in. With the kids away at Hogwarts and the slow pace of weekends influencing her, she didn't see any harm in indulging her indolence.

Unlocking the door, she stumbles into Evans Apothecary. Her shop is quite unimpressive, if she's being honest. It's more of a small shack that sits right between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley than an actual respectable establishment. The front room displays neatly arranged potions on shelves, while the back room houses her lab and the ingredient storage.

Despite being nondescript and uninspiring, this is what feeds her family. And although her enthusiasm as a potioneer has waned in the last couple of years, it hasn't waned enough to make it feel like a total chore. Not that she would have many options even if she were totally done with this profession.

She makes her daily rounds and checks everything. Preservation charms are reapplied, both on concoctions and ingredients. Expired potions are taken off shelves and restocked. The counter is wiped with a rag, and a customary smile is taken up as she settles in her chair, waiting for elusive customers.

She waits, and waits, and waits. Just like every day, business is slow—nearly non-existent. With so many famous apothecaries in Diagon Alley, it's no surprise that hers gets the fewest patrons, both because of its lack of storied history and its unimaginative appearance.

But that's fine. There are still loyal customers who have kept her business afloat for more than a decade. And as the bell rings and the door opens, one of those regulars makes his way to the counter.

His dark robe billows as he sweeps through with long, measured strides and comes to a halt before her.

"Sev." She consciously broadens her plastic smile. "Good morning. The students are not too annoying, I hope."

He scoffs, taking a seat on the stool and resting his elbows on the counter. "It's the start of a new academic year. Fresh from the summer holidays, the dunderheads are ten times more vexing."

She chuckles, resisting an eye roll. It's plain infuriating to try to be sympathetic to the person who is at fault. Severus is many things, but a patient teacher he is not. And it just burns her that he took the one post she was after and yet has the audacity to come here and bemoan. As if teaching at a premiere institute and earning a good sum is a great tragedy.

Still, he is way better potioneer than her, so she can't really blame him for taking away her potential job. Though she can confidently say that she would've been a better fit as a professor between them. Not that it matters. The dice were thrown long ago, and now all she can do is accept the outcome.

"I hope my kids at least aren't being a nuisance." She smiles for real this time.

Rose may be the only one who will create trouble. The other two are too focused on their studies to bother causing any furor.

Severus' eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. "Your daughters are good. I cannot say the same for your son. He still doesn't show any interest in my class, having inherited both the disinterest and the unfounded confidence from his no-good father."

If this was the first time, she might've lost her temper, but Severus has had problems with Harry from the moment they met. He always complains to her about him for one reason or another. As if waiting for her to agree with him because of their shared dislike for a certain someone.

Just because Harry got his looks from his father doesn't mean he is his father. Her boy is the most unproblematic teenager in existence, a perfect gentleman, never causing her any worry. And she is not even exaggerating.

Unfortunately, the bad blood between James and Severus has passed on to him, and her friend cannot put aside his bias to see Harry as Harry.

"Oh? His grades are falling?" She asks, wanting to shut him down before he says something egregious.

"No, but his potions are as soulless as ever, perfect textbook copies without any hint of passion. I'm just glad he won't become a potioneer. He doesn't have the necessary skills. He might've dragged your reputation through mud," he drones on, shaking his head, yet finding a way to disparage Harry's perfection.

She bites back an angry rebuttal and shrugs. "I'm fine if he merely keeps up his perfect grades. There's hardly anyone other than Hermione who can challenge him in academics. Even we weren't that good at our age, were we?"

He nods stiffly and offers her a parchment roll. "Right. Here is the list of ingredients and potions I need."

She smiles and takes it, not reacting as his fingers linger against hers.

Getting up, she walks to the backroom, acutely aware of his lecherous gaze on her bottom.

A sigh escapes her as soon as she closes the door and begins gathering the ingredients from the storage.

She is aware of his obsession with her. She knows he 'loves' her—more like lusts after the first woman who showed him kindness. But necessity forced her to suffer his presence. He is the one from whom she earns ninety percent of her income. And money has a strange way of reconciling broken friendships. After all, how long can someone stay mad for a simple 'mudblood' slur when a person is trying his best to repent? Not to mention the money that person is bringing to the table.

It's for this reason that she became his friend once again after her divorce, after she opened this shop. As expected, he had tried to ask her out, to finally make her his. But she had been done with romantic relationships and just wanted to remain a caring mother. To give unconditional love and get it in return.

He had 'accepted' it but had refused to move on himself.

Here's the thing: she will never reciprocate Severus' feelings. The reason is not only his unattractive sallow appearance. Because while she wouldn't say looks don't matter, she is mature enough to look past it if someone has an enticing personality. But no, even his personality is not to her liking. He is aloof and ignorant of others' feelings. He has a tendency to look down on everyone for being a 'dunderhead'. He is arrogant, unkind, and frighteningly obsessive.

Even more than a decade later, after she turned him down, he is still waiting for her to change her mind, which might sound wholesome to stupid few but was thoroughly unappealing to her.

Ironically, this works in her favour.

She should go out and tell him off. She should plead with him to move on and find happiness with another woman. But that would mean risking her cash cow.

She can't do that. He is the primary customer of her business. The main source of her income. Endangering this 'relationship' will force her to close the shop. And that means she has to keep tolerating his lingering touches and wandering eyes.

Is it selfish of her to take advantage of his fanatical 'love'? Probably. But she is willing to do that for her family. It's not like she is actually leading him on. She just hasn't filed a restraining order yet.

Done picking the ingredients, she goes back to the front room. Then she removes the required potions from the shelves and carries them to him. "90 Galleons."

He drops the coin pouch on the counter and swipes the products into his bottomless bag. "I will come again next Saturday."

"I'll be waiting." She nods, plonking down on her seat, blushing when her breasts jiggle obscenely from the sudden motion. 'Shite, don't make it too awkward, Sev.'

He obviously grabs the opportunity to leer at her swaying tits. Thankfully, it's a brief, hungry glance rather than a full-on stare. She would've melted from shame otherwise. He manages to twist his lips into a 'smile' before rushing out of the shop.

She shudders, wanting a shower. She can still feel his ravenous eyes undressing her and latching onto her flesh like a leech. But that's just her repulsed mind conjuring phantom sensations. He is really gone, and she is alone.

As she picks up the coin pouch, which contains nearly a quarter of her total monthly income, she notices a curious letter beneath it.

Dear Lily,

I know you have said on many occasions that you do not want any romantic relationships and that you want to focus on your children. And I deeply admire you for that. But now that they're all grown up, you should reconsider my proposal. You are still very young and beautiful. And once your children get engrossed in their own adult lives, they won't be able to spare time for you.

I love you. I have loved you from the moment we met. And I know you must feel lonely too. I'd like to be your companion for the rest of your life. Please give heed to my words.

I'll come again next Saturday to get another batch of potions and ingredients. If your answer is yes, then pass me a similar letter at our parting. If it's no, then the absence of your letter will suffice.

Good day.

She groans and thumps her head on the counter.

Not even a date; this is a direct marriage proposal.

Does she have to sleep with him to remain in his good graces now? Does she have to marry him? She still needs him to keep running her business until one of her children becomes financially independent to shoulder the family's responsibility. But is she willing to go that far, to give up her body and dignity?

~xXxXx~

The last few days have made me realise that putting up a queue system was for the best. It allows me to know who my clients will be, and it prevents my housemates from hounding me to get their wishes heard.

A long list is now posted on the bulletin board in the common room, showing the order in which individuals will take their turns. Naturally, all the Gryffindors from first to seventh years—69 students in total, not including my sisters—have their names on it. The order of names was decided at random to forgo partiality. And it has filled my schedule to brim until September 22nd. I'll be done with my entire house by then and will move on to other houses after that.

The Great Hall is sparsely occupied when I stroll in for breakfast. It is not surprising since most students are sleeping in, making the most of the weekend.

I sit next to Hermione. "Good morning."

"Morning, Harry." She smiles, closing the thick tome she was reading. "I expected you to be in bed, or did you abandon your resolution of 'taking it easy and having fun'?"

I pile food on my plate from the platter. "I can't sleep more than eight hours. Just can't. And there are better ways to have fun. Don't you think so?"

It's because of our growing familiarity that she doesn't give any overt reaction. I've been ramming into her every day by now. That ought to have made her more accustomed.

Her smile turns sly. "True. I reckon you'll rope me into your brand of fun again."

"Obviously." I sneak my hand under the table and squeeze her meaty thigh.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her reading while occasionally taking a bite from her plate, completely unaffected by my stray hand over her lap.

At the moment, Hermione is the only conquered one. The only girl available. However, I am starting to get bored. Maybe bored is a tad strong word, but fucking her is certainly not as thrilling as it was the first time.

Sadly, I don't have many options.

My work of seducing others is going at a snail's pace.

Rose's seduction percentage is rising bit by bit whenever she pulls me in for her long-drawn-out hugs. But those instances are few and far between.

Iris, on the other hand, is still adamant on her 'just kissing' policy and doesn't let me paw her assets. Though she is on the cusp of reaching 100%, things might change once she hits that threshold.

As for Lavender, I'm still waiting to get her in my 'Genie' room before I make my move. Her turn should come in a week if everything goes as scheduled. I'll try my luck then.

The students whose wishes I've fulfilled in the past days were either boys or first-year and second-year girls. Fortunately for them, I have strict standards. I'm unwilling to consider little kids for points. And this has less to do with morality and more to do with preference.

So yes, I didn't have any success this week. But coins were gathered, and connections were made. Not a total failure, I suppose.

I pick at my scrambled eggs and glance around for the two potential candidates.

Katie and Ginny. They are not here yet.

I have started attending their Quidditch games in hopes of being seen more. This helps me with Rose too, since she plays seeker in these practice matches. But it's a slow-going process, and it will take time to bear fruit.

At least I have a date with Katie on the first Hogsmeade weekend. That should help me bag her and get all those sweet gacha points.

Still, I'm itching to roll the Gacha Wheel. It's been days since I did it and got rewarded with that [Heal] skill. And it already feels like ages have passed since then.

Is this what withdrawal symptoms feel like?

Finishing breakfast, leaving Hermione swirling her spoon in a cold soup, I make my way to Gryffindor Tower.

But someone intercepts me on the way.

Someone exciting.

She is short and skinny. Her untied blonde hair streams past her shoulders in a neat waterfall. And her crystal-blue eyes glint like gemstones.

Her face bears a striking resemblance to her older sister, the one known as the most sought-after girl in my year.

She is a true vision of beauty.

"I've heard that you're a genie."

Even her voice is angelic.

Astoria Greengrass

Level: 16

Beauty Tier: B

Seduction: 0%

Points Available: 3

No way. She should easily be A-rank, such is her appeal. Maybe the lack of noticeable curves is the reason why she is relegated to a lower tier. Because her face alone should put her on top.

I stop in my tracks and peer at her. "Oh? Where did you hear that, Miss Greengrass?"

"From here and there," she says vaguely, and comes to stand before me, her head barely reaching my chest. "Are you a real genie? Or a scammer?"

I am tempted to pat her head, I don't know why. Maybe it's the height difference. Or maybe it's her extraordinary beauty. "Depends."

"On what?"

"If you have 10 galleons or not."

She tilts her head, staring at me with a deadpan look, making my hand twitch.

It's getting harder not to pat her head.

"Fine. Let's test your word, Mister Evans," she announces, her hands resting firmly on her hips and her voice becoming grim. "Fulfil my wish, and I'll give you 1000 galleons instead. Maybe more."

I'm taken aback by the amount and the shift in her tone. Ten galleons is not a small amount. It's an entire year's pocket money for most of the students. More than half of my fellow Gryffindors can't even afford my services. It's only because of the generosity of the richer students who are willing to donate money that every single Gryffindor is going to get their turn.

My house—while not Hufflepuff—is not lacking in its loyalty to its members.

So, to be offered a thousand galleons by this small, fifth-year girl is mind-boggling. Even if she is from a wealthy family, a thousand galleons is not something to throw around for mere curiosity.

I wonder what her desire is.

Humming thoughtfully, I gesture for her to follow me.

It seems I'll have to adjust my schedule a bit. Because I'm not going to spurn her away and lose this golden chance. This girl can prove to be an important link through which I can get access to Daphne Greengrass. And like any other boy, I too have dreamed of bedding the blonde bombshell. Maybe Astoria herself will prove more useful. Let's see how this goes.

Astoria doesn't say a single word as I lead her to my 'Genie for Hire' office.

The chamber is as spacious as ever, making the noise of our footsteps piercing. The only furniture here is a large desk and two chairs on either side of it, located near the other end of the room.

I take my seat and signal her to do the same.

I may need to replace these spartan chairs with something more comfortable.

Once we are settled, I slide the usual contract across the desk. "Here, sign it before we begin."

She scrutinises it carefully before writing her name on the bottom of the parchment.

"I must inform you that my power doesn't grant every wish. If you ask too much, I won't be able to provide," I say, noticing the instant the hope drains from her heavenly face.

Ah, she was going to ask for something very big. Something undoable.

"Can you cure an incurable disease?" She whispers, leaning forward on her elbows, desperation tainting her melodic voice.

My heart soars as a quick plan forms in my head. A disease, huh? So that's what she is after.

Yes, Astoria Greengrass is going to be more useful than I had previously thought.

"If it's incurable, then no, my power cannot create a medicine that doesn't exist in the first place." I reply apologetically and truthfully. "But let's try anyway. Maybe it will surprise me."

It won't.

I just want her hopes to be thoroughly crushed, to ensnare her in a cage of depression, so when I give her a way out, she will choose it.

She nods demurely. "I wasn't expecting a miracle anyway. How will this work?"

In response, I get up and go around the desk. "I will cup your face and connect my magic with yours. Then, I'll ask you your wish, and you must answer it with all your heart. Remember, with all your heart."

I am an arsehole, I know.

Now let's kick her into a bottomless pit.

She doesn't make any fuss and comes to a stop in front of me.

I frame her stunning face between my palms, my [Touch] skill active, and ask calmly, "What is your wish?"

Her crystal-blue eyes overflow with determination and hope, and she answers with all her heart, "Cure my blood-curse, please."

My eyes widen when I actually feel my perk resonating with her desire.

No, no, this cannot happen. She cannot get her wish this easily. It will put my entire plan in peril.

She needs to suffer so I can rescue her.

I attempt to interrupt my perk from granting her wish. I put a stop to it. And it listens to my will and stills, following my order, declining to create a miracle for this angel.

I bit back a sigh of relief.

"Sorry, it was too big of a wish to grant."

"But I felt something. I, I, in my chest… I felt…" Her eyes fill up, her lips quiver, and she shakes her head in anger. "Of course, of course. I knew it wouldn't work. It never does."

I give her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze and lead her back to the desk, where she drops into her chair.

Tears keep dripping down her cheeks, and she keeps wiping them to no effect.

I feel a niggle of guilt. Only a niggle.

Instead of going back to my own chair, I perch on the edge of the desk before her—near her. "Mind telling me what this curse is?"

She swallows deeply and rubs her face with a green handkerchief.

Taking a deep breath, she acknowledges my question. "It's a genetic curse that runs in my mother's family. It randomly shows up in our bloodline and causes unavoidable death. This curse will become active when I reach my majority. It will weaken my body and drain my life until I die. It will severely reduce my lifespan. The healers have said that I'll only be able to live for two more years after turning seventeen."

There's melancholy in her tone, but also resignation and a mighty bulk of anger.

"That sounds like torture." I extend my hand and pat her head, unsurprised by how silky her hair is.

She freezes at first, but eases into my touch. "It is. I have known about my impending death since I was little. And no healers are able to cure me. It is unfair. It is wrong."

I caress her lustrous hair. "I am sorry."

"I don't want to die." She bursts into tears again and looks at me with such despair that even I feel a little guilty for playing with her emotions. "I want to live."

She springs from the chair and collides against me, wrapping her arms around my waist, almost pushing me off the desk, pressing her divine form against me.

I feel it. The softness of her bosom. The heat of her skin. And the scent of her being.

It is riveting.

I hold her tight and pat her back, with my [Touch] skill on, obviously. Just because I feel sympathy doesn't mean I won't take advantage of her.

"I might have a way to cure you." I murmur on her head, proffering a metaphorical hand to yank her out of the pit.

Her body stiffens, and she extracts herself from my embrace. "Truly?"

"I can't promise anything, mind you, but I think it will work." I smile, slipping off the desk and dropping on my feet, our bodies mere inches away.

I want to inhale her whole.

"How?" Her voice shakes, not wanting to fall for another false hope, the light too blinding after her stay in the pit.

I offer my hand, which she holds onto, allowing herself a hint of hope again. "I just don't grant wishes. I should also be able to heal any maladies. But since this is a recent development, and because I haven't tried it yet, I'm not fully confident. Though I have a feeling this might really work. I was going to keep this new power a secret, but your sorrow struck my soul. I will help you, Astoria Greengrass, no matter what."

She covers her mouth, tears wetting her cheeks, and nods jerkily. "Thank you, Harry. Even if this doesn't work, I'll always be grateful to you for trying."

I grab her shoulders and pull her closer, her chest lightly touching mine and her scent cocooning me. "It will work. Be hopeful."

She gives me a quick hug before pulling back. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

Instead of answering, I flick my wand and increase the proportions of the desk, making it as big and wide as a single bed. "Take off your clothes and lie down."

…

She blushes and squirms in her place, not meeting my eyes.

I chuckle fatherly and pat her head. "Consider me a healer, Astoria. No need to be shy around me. You know what? Keep your knickers on. That should help."

"Right," she murmurs, unzipping her ankle-length green dress and stepping out of it.

My loins stir as I'm offered her enchanting form, clad in white knickers and pink bra.

So this is how a divine angel looks.

Thin, willowy body. Fair, blemishless skin. And straight, blonde hair tumbled down to her mid-back.

Long, slender legs. Surprisingly round, voluminous arse. And small a-cup breasts, full enough to fill my hands.

Putting her dress down in her chair, she glances up at me before looking away. "Do I have to remove my bra too?"

"Yes."

She sighs in defeat and unclasps her pink bra before tossing it in her chair. Crossing her arms to hide her cute, perky breasts, she lays down on top of the enlarged desk.

I lean over her and tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

I hide my victorious smile at the way her white cheeks darken.

"From what I can see with my power, there's a black 'seed' in your chest. It is lodged right where your heart is. Currently, it is inactive. But when you become an adult, it will start growing and spreading its branches throughout your body. In the end, it will suck all of your life and kill you." I trace my fingers along her collarbone.

It's bullcrap, of course. There's no 'seed'. I just need to activate my [Heal] skill, and she'll be cured instantly.

But she doesn't need to know that.

She nods. "So you will have to remove this seed from me. Right?"

"Easier said than done. But I will try." I gently push her hands off her chest, making her squeak. "Keep your hands to the side, please."

She turns her face away, but does follow my command.

I look at her left boob. It juts out like a white hill with a pink tower on top.

I place my hand on it.

She gasps.

But before she can protest, I say, "Right beneath here is the seed. I'm afraid I'll need to touch you."

"I-It's alright," she stutters, her face red.

I squeeze her mound. So firm and squishy.

It reminds me of Iris' cute tits.

"I'm slowly letting my magic seep into you." I knead her breast, sinking my fingers into her warm flesh and groping her.

She moans and then shuts her mouth with an audible click.

I don't react and continue touching her.

Astoria Greengrass

Level: 16

Beauty Tier: B

Seduction: 30%

Points Available: 3

"Can you feel it? You must be feeling a tingly sensation in your chest." I graze my thumb across her stone-hard, pink nipple.

"I can feel it!" She jolts as if struck by lightning, trembling from the stimulation.

My [Touch] skill really is the core of my system.

I wonder if I can seduce her to 100% by just molesting her. I think not.

"Oh no, the seed shifted its position. Now it's here." I cup her right tit, massaging it aggressively.

"Hng." She moans and crosses her legs, rubbing her thighs together. "Is it bad?"

"No, this is good news. It means the curse is feeling threatened and is trying to hide." I smile softly, rolling her nipple between my fingers.

"Argh!" She hisses with pleasure. "You sure y-you have to do t-that?"

"I must. This is the best way to transfer magic." I pinch her nipple and pull on it.

She groans and grabs my hand, trying to wrench herself free, beginning to get angry.

"I think I w-will pass, Harry." Her cheeks are red from pleasure and shame. "I don't t-think this will work."

I frown and give her breast one last squeeze while simultaneously using my [Heal] skill.

My hand gets enveloped in a soft golden glow before it extinguishes. "It definitely worked."

I take a step away from her. "Congratulations, Astoria. You are curse-free from this moment. You won't die at nineteen. You will live until you're old and grey. You might need to go get checked up by Madam Pomfrey to put your doubts to rest, though."

She lays there for a moment, motionless and astounded, her crystal-blue eyes wide as saucers, her blonde hair strewn around her pale face.

"I can feel it. I can really feel it. I am cured."

Then comes the tears, and then she is sobbing.

I sit on the edge of the enlarged desk and pat her head as she cries.

After she is done crying her heart out, she puts on her clothes.

"I need to tell Daphne about it! She will be overjoyed! I even have to tell my parents so they can give me one thousand galleons."

I raise my hands placatingly, and the excited blonde calms down. "You can't. I need this to be our secret. I'm not ready to come out just yet."

"But I have to. Daphne is always worried about me. I can't keep her in the dark. And my parents also need to know if you want your payment. Because I don't have 1,000 galleons with me. I just have 100." She pleads, taking my hands in hers and looking at me imploringly.

I scrunch my eyebrows and exhale. "Fine. I'll write three contracts, which they must sign. Only once they have done it can you reveal that I cured you. Got it?"

"Got it," she promises, intertwining our fingers. "You can trust me."

I grace her with a small smile and quickly write three contracts using my [Binder] perk. "Here. I hope you won't break my trust, Astoria."

"I won't, ever. And call me Tori. My friends and family call me that." She collects the three parchments with a bright smile.

She hasn't stopped smiling the entire time.

I must say I'm disappointed. That sad, lonely girl looked more angelic than this happy one. She had an aura of melancholy and quiet that was replaced by happiness and excitement.

Before me now stands just an ordinary cute girl rather than a divine being.

Emotions really do change people's faces.

Melancholy suited Astoria more than happiness does.

Not that I can or will change anything.

"Alright, Tori. Also, I don't need your money. This wasn't a business. It was just a friend helping a friend." I pat her head.

The next moment, I'm blinded by her kiss.

She grabs my collar and snogs me senseless. Before I can reciprocate, before I can taste her lips, she shoves me off and leaves the room without another word.

Though her embarrassment is thick enough to be cut with a knife.

I wipe my mouth and grin when I use my [See] skill on her back.

Astoria Greengrass

Level: 16

Beauty Tier: B

Seduction: 90%

Points Available: 1

Oh look, I got two points to feed my gacha addiction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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