"I wonder if anyone but me realises what goes on in that head back of your deceptively sweet face." - Margaret Mitchell
Because not all Slytherins are one-dimensional bad guys.
Updates: Sundays and Wednesdays
Canon Compliant. Rated M for future scenes.
Hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it :)
Synopsis: The Greengrass lineage was steeped in millennia of prestige, wealth, influence, and most importantly, adhering to the ancient system of blood purity. Astoria Greengrass prances through life in extravagant dresses with champagne flute in hand. Draco Malfoy only sees her as a pretty little idiot. No one would ever suspect her to be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Her mission becomes all the more difficult as Draco sets his sights on finding and bringing the Amber Ashwinder to the Dark Lord himself. But she is ever the expert at manipulation and evasion. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer as the saying goes. It works for a while, until she's swept up in a complexity she can barely manage. But she'll have to. She's the Amber Ashwinder, after all.
Late August
The decadent party at the Nott Flat was in full swing, everyone celebrating the newly elected Minister for the Ministry of Magic. On a more discrete level, several were also celebrating the the downfall of Dumbledore, and the successful infiltration of the Ministry (though not everyone was privy to the last part just yet). The house was nestled in between two fine town houses in Northern London, absolutely inconspicuous to the muggle residents around them. Outside, there was nothing to see at all. But inside was a roaring party going on, with only the most wealthy and the most dangerous residents of Wizarding Britain in attendance.
The live band in the corner was playing swing jazz, and the flickering candles lining the wooden panels of the ancient rooms made the crowded get-together feel all the more intimate. A group of ministry officials and Death Eaters roared with laughter out on the balcony. But it was here in the ballroom where the life of the party truly was. Floating champagne bottles flowed freely into a hovering pyramid of carefully stack glasses. Astoria snatched a glass filled to the brim. Another one appeared to take its place, but a drop of champagne still splattered onto the ground.
In a sea of Dark Lord supporters each with their own agenda, Astoria Greengrass was as beautiful and shallow as an emerald; and with just as many facets. But none of them knew that. To them, she was just a pretty little object trilling about the party with so much exuberance she may well be one of the hosts. Currently she was rapt with attention, listening to a scandal surrounding a pureblood socialite and a muggleborn concierge.
Holding the glass up to her red-painted lips she observed the crowds, brown eyes flitting through every person in attendance. Death Eaters, ministry officials, bankers, artists - anyone who was anyone was here. As the party hours trickled by, people began swaying and words began slurring. But there was no risk of running out of alcohol. The vaults filled with wine far beneath the Nott house was unlimited, carefully gathered and saved over the decades. Nott Sr always did throw the most extravagant parties; he lived for those that went long into the early hours of the morning. Unlike Nott Sr, his son was much more reserved.
The past two years Theo had shot up to become one of the tallest in his year, and had filled out considerably. With a mane of caramel coloured hair, slanted brown eyes and high cheekbones he had become uncertain in how to deal with the sudden amorous attention he was receiving. Yet it wasn't from the one girl he so desperately sought returned affection from. Theo stood with Goyle and Malfoy off in a corner, taking solace near the leather couches by the fire-place.
Blaise had disappeared only a few moments ago, hunting down some Portuguese pureblood who was some distant relative of the Mulcibers. Twins Baccio and Marsia Attordale were nowhere to be found whilst their parents were busy schmoozing some British investor. In fact they had been gone the whole summer. Their British father married into a long line of Italian wandmakers, and they were eager to compete with Ollivander in Britain.
Occasionally a dramatic sound came from Astoria Greengrass, and despite the loud crowd, her grating voice could carry over the crowd and needle its way into the ears of the Slytherins. Of course she already knew this and knew exactly what they thought of her. And that is exactly how she needed it to be. For Astoria Elora Greengrass was not just a pretty little thing with a vapid mind prancing within a world untroubled. No, she was working for a cause that may well have her killed on the spot if any of them knew. But it was imperative for her to attend all of these parties, and to continue prancing her way through them with an exuberance as she strove to become the most talked about socialite in Wizarding Britain. However exhausting it may be.
Then she was drawn into a conversation with some Dark Wizards about how much better the Durmstrang boys were trained. Crabbe was getting redder by the minute, and the Bulgarians only seemed to be egging him on with Mihai Travers leading the group. It almost wasn't fair to target the stocky Death Eater. Everyone knew he only had rocks clashing about inside his skull and an explosive temper.
But the group of Durmstrang graduates only looked on in amusement. They were a few years Crabbes senior year, and far more experienced both from their school specialising in Dark Magic from their first year. The war for supremacy they were involved in also gave them ample experience in Eastern Europe. Not everyone was thrilled with a resurgence of the British Death Eaters over there. They shared many ideals with the Death Eaters, but they weren't willing to give up autonomy to Voldemort. It was ever so lucky some older sons of the Death Eaters had grown up in Durmstrang and knew the region. Because it was with certainty Voldemort would set his sights on them as soon as he had won the war in Britain.
Mihai tossed back his head in uproarious laughter, his long black locks flowing over his shoulders and gleaming beneath the candlelight. His skin was golden from spending all of his days out beneath the sun casting an uncharacteristically hot summer weather in Bulgaria. For a brief moment the light red scar that travelled across his temple became visible. Then the older Dark Wizard asked her a question, words carrying sexual overtones as he leered at her.
But she was only half paying attention. In the corner of the eye she had just spotted the older Slytherin boys, though her eyes were caught on one in particular. The Malfoy heir never impressed her growing up. Until he found a loophole even Dumbledore hadn't foreseen when protecting Hogwarts. Now he was dead. For years she had thought Draco was just a coward propped up by Lucius to keep him from caving in on himself. Now she - and dozens of others - had realised they had underestimated him. They all realised too late. But the war wasn't over yet.
Astoria gave a twinkling laugh, throwing her head back. And she knew her audience was rapt. "Well I can't say much about your particular skill, but it is true, I've heard only the most handsome boys go to Durmstrang. And those rumours seem to be true."
One of the Bulgarians smirked, some brute who was clearly only a lowly soldier. "Skill? Hmph, that we are born with. But others skills, I do have - you wouldn't forget."
"Darling," Astoria laughed, "The night is still young."
She held onto Crabbe for a moment, regaining her tipsy balance as she waved her empty champagne flute around, talking animatedly.
The sea of bodies shifted again, and Astoria became visible to the Slytherins sitting in the corner.
"Greengrass is a force tonight." Nott muttered.
"Which one?" Goyle snickered.
Nott threw him a scathing look but Goyle just rolled his eyes. Daphne was off-limits, but her younger sister Astoria, in all her foppish glory, was alright to talk about. They all put up with Astoria simply because they were childhood friends with Daphne, but they didn't need to vocalise how exasperating she was to all of them.
She was wearing a tulle dress in so many layers it bordered on the ridiculous. The colours at the base began a deep red, and with every layer upwards began shifting to a fiery orange. The weight of all the material nearly threatened to drown to drown her. Of course Astoria Greengrass pulled it off better than most due to her grace and poise that stemmed from coquettish confidence.
Draco found it impossible to miss the younger Greengrass girl. The way she'd flounce around at every event, giggling the whole time. Greengrass was grating to him, and he did his best to avoid her. He found her an incorrigible fop, unlike all of their parents who found her to be a darling gem. He remembered when he tried to be the same, the adored center of attention. Now he did his best to stay out of their sight.
But there was a sense of curiosity he felt for Astoria Greengrass as she twirled through the crowd, leading conversations and enchanting everyone who was part of her elite world. Surely, there must be something more than the vacuous girl with a ridiculous accent. She had that same stance he did, slightly leaning back as if trying to get away from her conversationalist. Yet it was her actively engagement that lead him to believe he was wrong, that she fully did enjoy all of these people playing their own twisted games for their own ends. By now with all those dangerous wizards she came into contact with, there must be more at play than nothing at all. No one played with fire and got away unscathed. But what she would possibly be involved in, he couldn't tell.
Goyle snickered like he had outdone himself in wit as he looked at the younger Greengrass, "Sorting hat got that one wrong; should've been in Hufflepuff."
And then she was prancing towards them as if she sensed they were talking about her. Goyle was already setting himself up to leave.
"Nott, darling, have you seen my sister?" She had that aristocratic lilt when she spoke that Draco only really heard in his parents generation. She really was utterly ridiculous.
"Think she's talkin' with that potion shop-owning bloke." Crabbe said.
"Surely you're not talking about Isbin Vulhurst?" She asked.
Crabbe shrugged, shifting in the oversized couch. Astoria was a nonsensical creature he didn't know how to handle. She talked so fast that by the time the words processed in his brain, she had already moved on before he could formulate a proper reply.
Astoria readjusted her bangs like she was getting ready to engage in a duel. Her eyes were lit with a mischief that only pertained to when she felt she had stumbled upon particularly interesting gossip that simply had to be shared. "Did you hear about the mishap outside his shop yesterday? It's ever so scandalous."
With a learned futility they allowed her to launch into her very animated tale as her hands rose and fell like waves crashing against cliffs. The boys came with occasional nods of disinterest and non-committal sounds.
As she came to the end of her tale she placed her hands on her hips and gave them a look of disapproval. "What is this snore-fest happening in the corner? Liven up before you lull yourselves to sleep boys, this is a celebration." She sang.
Nott dangled his champagne glass half-heartedly, a sardonic smile forming on his face. "A party? Didn't realise. Let me just throw this back and then we'll get around to having the times of our lives."
She laughed lightly. "No need to be so sharp, Theo dear. Someone may cut themselves."
His smile was dripping with insincerity.
Her shoulder-length hair spun as she whipped around.
"Oh I simply love this part." She said, staring at the glittering sparkles that danced through the air with the grace of ballet dancers. Then she was off to observe at a closer distance. Theo let out a heavy sigh, relieved she was gone. Draco stood up, ready to find himself a bottle of liquor.
"You're mad for spending summer at the Greengrass Estate." Goyle said.
Theo shrugged, "She's never really there. Probably spending her time shopping. Not that I'm complaining."
It was true. Theo could barely remember seeing her around the Estate the past few years. In fact she was always out on one shopping expedition or the other, coming back late at night drowning in glossy bags filled with clothing and jewellery. Or perhaps had found a party flowing with champagne and magical light shows to look at. How a house like the Greengrasses had managed to produce a daughter so devoid of intellect was some genetic fluke.
Draco eyed his empty glass, ready to find another bottle to soak his veins with. Theo looked at him in concern. "Bit heavy on the alcohol there, mate."
Draco sneered down at him in response. "Shouldn't you be busy proposing to Daphne or something."
Theo was used to Draco's harsh words and he rolled his eyes in response. "Just showing a bit of friendly concern. Drink yourself into a stupor if it please you."
Instead of responding Draco waved his glass mockingly, before disappearing into the crowd. A moment later, Theo stood up to find the Daphne Greengrass. She was so much quieter than her younger sister, yet she had so much more to give. Theo spotted her then, and how could he not? In her emerald dress she looked absolutely stunning as a smile that lit up the whole room was spread across her face.
Then his mood immediately soured as he saw Lucian Bole flirting with her. No doubt the cocky former Slytherin was telling her all about his brilliant new job as Editor in Chief for Obscurus Books like he had gotten the job because he hadn't shagged the Publisher. With mouth pressed in a tight line he stormed off to find something to drink, or maybe to bother Tracey.
Astoria nimbly passed through the crowd, twirling around a pureblood group talking with the new Minister for Magic as if he had been around for years. Scrimgeour was dead. The official story was that he had taken his own life, devastated by his late realisation over the monster Harry Potter truly was and his failure in protecting the wizarding world from him. Now there was a new, much more useful Minister of Magic in place for the Death Eater regime.
Most of the Death Eaters were clamouring to have a conversation with the Imperio'd Thicknesse, passing off thinly veiled insults at his expense. Very few knew how deeply and utterly compromised the current Minister truly was. It was perhaps the most entertaining part of the evening for them. Neither the captured Minister nor the Death Eaters had anything worthwhile to offer her at the moment and so she was gracefully stalking through the room on a mission.
Near the large window where the sparks took on the forms of dancers and leapt their way through the air in elaborate dancers, the crowd thinned. For a moment Astoria stood alone, until she was joined by an elderly man. But he wasn't looking in her direction. Standing next to her, but facing the opposite direction was Hengist Elphrin. He stood still with a stooped back and white hair coming out of both ears and nose, too lazy to trim them and too stubborn to allow anyone else to. He had now lived in Southern Portugal for the past few years, and he came from old money like most of the parties attendants.
He pushed up the golden glasses perched on the tip of his crooked nose with one stubby finger as he tilted his head towards her. "I heard there's two a newly appointed Deputy Headmaster and Mistress at Hogwarts. About time they put in someone proper."
Her eyes widened with excitement at the new information, as she continued staring at the dancers. "Oh do tell, I've nearly not been able to sleep not knowing what was happening this year."
Hengist snorted in amusement, his additional chin wobbling. "Yes, I do know how much you love stories. It's Alecto and Amycus Carrow; heard they're most excited to begin teaching. There'll be a lot of changes."
She knew the Carrows alright, everyone in their circle did. The twins with such a penchant for nasty behaviour and snivelling attitudes they had crawled their way right into the inner circle of the Dark Lord. Anything he so desired, they would fall over themselves to accomplish. Their loyalty would never be questioned simply because their intelligence never was. They were as intelligent as they were attractive, but what they lacked in intellect, the made up for in cruelty. She didn't know what they had done to make it into Voldemort's inner-circle, but she was sure it was worse than half of the inner-circle Death Eaters combined. It was the only way to explain how they rose so quickly in the ranks.
They had aided in the downfall of Hogwarts. So the Carrows reward was being appointed as Deputy Headmistress and Minister at Hogwarts. It was a better reward than the Malfoy's, whose close cooperation with the Dark Lord was more of a curse than a blessing. Always within direct vision of The Dark Lord, all of their actions under direct scrutiny.
"Well I have to say that's simply wonderful news. I cannot wait to learn under their guidance." Astoria said.
"Naturally the purebloods will adapt just fine, the others are bound to stand out much more . . ."
Right. The half-bloods in each of the houses. And likely any Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw simply for being sorted into the wrong houses.
"They'll be out to make sure those mudbloods and half-breeds aren't stealing our magic." Hengist muttered, voice a little sharper now. The blood in the younger girls veins was burning hot with anger.
Oh, but Astoria Elora Greengrass was excellent at being an aristocrat, and her fury at the Dark Lords regime was careful concealed beneath make-up, airy expressions and a dainty demeanour.
As she raised the flute to her lips she murmured, "They are ever so inconsiderate, aren't they?"
She briefly caught Daphne twirling through the crowd, Theo dancing with her. Hengist dipped his chin, indicative of a nod as he looked elsewhere. To an outsider they would only see a disinterested man and a young woman enthralled by the dancing fireworks standing near to each other. If only they knew that 'he' was in fact Nymphadora Tonks and Astoria was the one supplying the Order of the Phoenix with insider information.
Two blood-traitors in plain sight, and yet, completely invisible. Luckily for her, they suspected nothing at all. Just like everyone else, she was nothing more than a pretty little idiot; the one who knew all the gossip, could spew anything that had ever been written in Witch Weekly; was ahead of the fashion trends; and had a champagne flute in hand so often it was practically an extension of herself. She was the embodiment of the wealthy, pureblood socialite.
"Pod couldn't come. You lot sure do love your magical waterfalls." Tonks murmured. Her hand hovered absent-mindedly to her pregnant stomach before quickly pulling away, letting her hand drop by her side. The one thing a metamorphmagus couldn't hide was pregnancy. Luckily Elphrin was a large man who wore multiple layers of ill-fitting clothing.
Of course, coming from noble families both of them knew the security measures placed on events such as these. Anyone in any type of disguise, polyjuice potion included, would be revealed crossing over the Notts threshold. But that was for all magical embellishments. And being a Metamorphmagus was bound into Tonks's DNA; a nifty little loophole to the security surrounding the party. That was not the case for the man, Podmore, she reported to. Or, as the others like to call Podmore for fun, her 'snake-handler'. Only four people knew of her role. They did their best to keep it that way.
"I'm sure he's devastated." Astoria sighed dramatically.
Tonks shook her head at the ridiculous girl next to her. "He'll have many sleepless nights."
"Speaking of sleepless, there is something I've simply just been dying to know. Word has it you're moving some precious cargo soon. Is this true, Hengist?" Astoria asked, with a feigned bright smile. These talks were more dangerous than the others, for this question was about Harry Potter. She had to relay the rumours she had picked up recently, piercing together different vague lines from Death Eaters, culminating into an understanding that they were all talking about attacking Harry Potter in the upcoming weeks.
"Well now, that doesn't sound familiar." Tonks answered, before taking a small sip of her wine.
"Oh you don't have to lie to me, I'll keep a good secret." She winked. "I know there are many people already keen on taking this exceptionally rare artwork - and Baron has a birthday coming up. I would so love to buy it from you. Before the bids even begin, of course."
Tonks forced a chuckle. "Oh, that's all just rumours, Lady Greengrass. My exceptionally rare artwork is not for sale, I'm afraid."
"Oh, truly? That's a shame, I know ever so many people who would hunt it down just in the hopes of attaining it. A true artist, you are." Astoria sighed with reverence.
Tonks gave a tight smile in return. The gears were evidently already working in her head. Potter was being hidden in the Dursley's home, but someone had slipped information to the Death Eaters. They were going to attack when they left the house.
Despite both being mentored by Mad-Eyed Moody, neither had had much of a conversation. In fact, Astoria wondered if this was their longest conversation, and it wasn't even about the two of them at all. The Metamorphmagus couldn't quite understand Astoria's tactics or the tasks she had been given. But Tonks was all about open rebellion and publicly taking a stand. Astoria took the Slytherin-esque method she was best at, and maybe thats why Tonks avoided her to the best of her abilities. Astoria was the very system she had been trying to escape for decades. But the witch should know the golden rule: there was no escaping pureblood nobility.
Speaking of . . . Draco Malfoy, the pureblood poster child, was still in the corner with a crystal glass of what looked to be firewhiskey; it wasn't his first. Pansy seemingly appeared out of thin air then, and after pressing against him and whispering something in his ear, he allowed her to lead him somewhere more private, glass still in hand. He looked more interested in the drink in his hand as he threw back his head and downed the remaining contents. Astoria also wanted to pull him into a private room - for very different reasons.
Then Astoria attention returned back to her fellow traitor, refocusing her attention to where it needed to be. "Hengist, I have this wonderful ring I'd like you to try. It's simply marvellous and oh don't you think it fits in with that rustic theme of your new paintings?"
She slipped it onto his stubby ring finger. Her other, perhaps more important role in the war, was helping to help finance the Order. The Order would get enough galleons worth to continue funding their missions until next time she handed them heirlooms from the Greengrass Estate. It was, after all, her parents who were financing the Death Eaters. Their wealth was nearly immeasurable.
There were enough heirlooms that her family wouldn't realise these ones going missing for a very long time. If Astoria had learned something from her parents, it was how to finance a war. A shame, really, that she was on the opposing side of her parents.
Her name was squealed somewhere in the crowd and instantly her tiny bit of loathing that had bubbled up was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She nimbly moved through in excitement, completely forgetting about the expensive ring Hengist now wore. Then Daphne was gripping her hand, dragging her through the crowd, a wide smile on her face. Of course, Tonks never gave it back to her, and she never truly forgot about it.
The role of upcoming wizarding socialite had taken its toll on her soul, rotting it within. But outside, she was perfecting this personality she had cultivated in the past three years. The Astoria Greengrass everyone knew. The one everyone loved but none cared for. It was an incredibly lonely job.
As night bled into day, most of the guests had already gone home, admitting defeat as the crimson sun peaked over the horizon. With Daphnes leave, Nott has excused himself soon after to retire to his bedroom. Astoria made her last rounds of goodbye, nearly being smothered by a drunken middle-aged man in the process.
She floo'd home, using the Notts opulent chimney for their privileged guests. The foyer at the Greengrass Estate was dark, and only the clacking of her heels disturbed the silence of a house long gone to bed. She walked through the darkness, knowing her home well enough she could walk through blind and still reach her destination. Plus, it saved her from the tapestries and paintings scowling at her, scolding her for the bright light that had awoken them.
She wandered through the Estate, taking off her heels one by one as she walked through the winding maze of the Estate. Although she carefully gathered the shoes up. She loathed to give the house-elves extra work, though she kept that a secret close to her heart. Even supporting the rights of creatures like house-elves counted as turning ones back her pureblood heritage. The Sacred Twenty-Eight always were shown to have the most privileged lives, but no one knew the inescapable shackles of order and traditions they were born into.
She paused outside her room in the East Wing, wincing as the grandfather clock ticking continued incessantly, pendulum swinging back and forth. It always felt like the sound was ticking down the seconds she had left to live, a constant reminder of unspoken death that lingered in the household. It wasn't her death. But she knew she was next. With a sigh she entered her room, and shut the door gently.
The most extravagant thing in here was the dress she wore, which she quickly shed out of her and threw it to the side with careless abandon. Still, she couldn't discard her mask fully, though the sullen look of defeat finally returned to her face. It was hard to be her real self when she felt like a stranger in her own home. But it had been that way for a long time.
As she scrubbed off her makeup, the deep dark bags beneath her eyes resurfaced, and the light dusting of freckles reappeared. For a long moment she simply stared at herself. The only time she sat in front of her vanity was to paint herself up with whatever face she needed to show the world that day. It was easier to play her role when she dressed up, buying into her own act. But now there was only a deafening silence. It didn't matter. She would get back up again the next day like she did every day. And she would do what she had to, to take down the Death Eaters and their cohorts. Some days were easier than others.
But now Scrimgeour was gone, killed under torture. He had refused to give up any information he knew on Potter. But the former Minister hadn't died in vain, for there were others who had already agreed to pick up the mantle. One Sacred 28 heiress included. For she was Astoria Elora Greengrass, and she was going to destroy the Death Eaters from the inside. They wouldn't be free to live out their lives in peace after what they had done all those years ago. Nothing would get in her way. Or so she thought.