The two Snatchers guffawed.
"I suppose that would make you Draco Malfoy, then?" the one with the Somerset accent said, laughing raucously. "Lucius Malfoy's sole son and heir? Yeah, right! Did you really think you'd fool anyone with such an obvious lie?"
Draco bristled. Concealing his true identity while he unravelled what Loki had done to incur the Dark Lady's wrath was one thing, but standing there while lowborn thugs besmirched the honour of the Malfoy name was quite another. Did they not have eyes?
"Hang on, Scabior, I don't think this lass is a truant after all," his companion said slowly. "Look at her clothes, they look a size too big for her. I think she stole them. I think we might have a Mudblood on our hands…"
The Snatchers levelled their wands at the platinum-haired girl.
"M-Mudblood!? H-how dare you!?" Draco spluttered. "My father will hear about this!"
There came a whistling sound, followed by the crash of shattering glass as a tankard flew from nowhere and smashed against one of the Snatchers' heads. Without too much fanfare or flailing of the arms, he toppled backwards heavily like a felled tombstone, knocked out cold.
Startled, Scabior turned his wand away from Draco and pivoted towards the source of the flying tankard, just in time to see a hooded figure vaulting over a table. He raised his wand and took aim, but without warning it flew spinning from his grip of its own accord; the hooded figure crashed into him, bearing him down to the floorboards and bashing the back of his head against the unyielding floor, knocking him out as well.
"Thanks for the help," said the hooded figure, leaping to her feet with her hand extended for a handshake. "I was worried I wouldn't reach him in time. My wand's snapped, so I couldn't use any magic."
Draco's eyes widened at the sight of flaming red locks spilling from beneath the girl's hood, and he lowered his wand. Those sharp canines, those wickedly sharp fingernails. Without a doubt, his saviour was none other than…
"Astoria Greengrass," the girl said, drawing back her hood and shaking her hair loose. "And you are?"
Draco couldn't fathom why neither Astoria nor the Snatchers had recognised him. It didn't feel like a trick; Astoria genuinely seemed to believe he was not the infamous Draco Malfoy. He could see the absence of recognition in her eyes.
"Er…"
Reflexively, Draco glanced down into his tankard of Butterbeer for inspiration. Thanks to the Snatchers' rude interruption, its foamy bubbles had fizzled out, leaving the golden-brown liquid's surface clear… and the face reflected there was no longer his own. Had someone slipped him some Polyjuice Potion while he wasn't looking? Or had Loki done something to him?
The past few months felt like a blur…
"Get out, the both of you!" Madam Rosmerta shrieked. "Out, out, before you get me into trouble!"
"But the bodies…" Astoria said, turning away from Draco.
"I'll take care of erasing their memories! I'll make them believe they got drunk and fell asleep in my bar!" Madam Rosmerta hissed. "You just head on to the Hog's Head; the proprietor is the man you want. He'll take care of you truants, just tell him I sent you!"
And just like that, Astoria and Draco found themselves tossed back into the cold, Madam Rosmerta slamming the door behind them. They turned to see the curtains drawing themselves across the windows by magic, while the 'Open' sign sprouted two tiny legs, swivelled round to read 'Sorry, we're closed!', then sat back down.
But Draco simply stared at his reflection in the windows. He, or rather, she, was… beautiful!?
"I've never seen you at Hogwarts before," Astoria observed. "Were you homeschooled?"
"Er… yeah," Draco said at last, shaking off the shock. "I'm… Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia… Malfoy."
The name Draco he could part with, but Malfoy? That he could not.
"You certainly look like a Malfoy," said Astoria cheerily. "My sisters and Mum all look the same, but I don't look like a Greengrass at all, do I!"
Draco racked his brains, trying to recall the waking nightmare that was Loki possessing his body. Why was Oleandra's sister out of the castle at night, acting like an outlaw? Why did Daphne want him dead? He could remember Loki duelling her, but looking further back, all dissolved into haze…
He shivered. He was not dressed for the cold, and the looseness of his robes made his attire rather breezy.
"Madam Rosmerta told us we ought to visit the Hog's Head Inn," said Astoria thoughtfully. "It's not as if I have anywhere else to go… What about you, Cass? You don't mind me calling you Cass, do you? Cassiopeia is a bit of a mouthful…"
Draco shook his head.
"I was planning to take the Hogwarts Express back to London, then head home," he said. "But now that I think about it, that doesn't seem the best idea…"
Although he looked a lot like his old self— enough to convince him he had been cursed, not slipped Polyjuice unwittingly— the resemblance fell short of persuading others of his true identity… even his mother would struggle to recognise him. Yet perhaps this held a silver lining: if the Dark Lady wished to be rid of him, she would scarcely think to look for a woman… especially since no known magic in the Wizarding World could reverse one's gender.
This wasn't permanent, was it? Maybe Oleandra would know.
The Three Broomsticks' front door suddenly flew open, and Madam Rosmerta's head thrust out through the gap. "What are you still doing here, hanging about in front of my pub!" she hissed. "Don't you know there's a curfew? Get out of here! Dementors will be patrolling the streets any minute!"
She slammed the door shut.
"The Hog's Head Inn it is, then," said Astoria. The tip of her nose was reddening in the cold first-of-November air. "Anything to get out of this chill… brr."
And so, the unlikely pair began making their way to the Hog's Head Inn, in the bad part of Hogsmeade.
That is, its outskirts.