Disclaimer: Everything Belongs to J.K Rowling. Not me, now or ever.
Why hello! This story is basically how I imagine how life would be for Slytherins after the Second War. I myself am a proud (non-evil) Slytherin, so please excuse my slight bias. Some things will start off unexplained (though hopefully not too annoyingly so), but I do have this story mapped out, and I promise it will not stay that way. Things will start to tie together, promise. All the characters are either completely cannon, or mentioned in Jo's class list,mainly because I want to keep this as absolutely close to cannon as possible. Of course, there is a fair amount of romance thrown in, because how can I resist?:) I sincerely hope you enjoy, and would love nothing more than a review!
Chapter One: The Poorly Concealed Woe of the Dish Pig
To most students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Saturday was a happy, welcome relief. Astoria Greengrass, however, was not most students. In fact, on that Saturday morning, whether an annoyingly chipper sunny day or a dismal grey the brunette did not know as the Slytherin dormitories didn't hold such trivial things such as windows, the girl lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the stone ceiling above her. The weekends were, in Astoria's opinion, the longest, most drawn out two days of the week. There were no classes to make the day pass faster, and as there was plenty of time for homework, it was easily completed early on, and gave no distraction to the vast boredom and, quite frankly, miserableness, Astoria harbored on a daily basis.
The girl kicked the silky emerald duvet off of her body, but still did not move from her spot. Her schedule was the same that day as it was every Saturday. Wake up, eat breakfast, try (and fail) to go back to sleep, finish what measly amounts of homework she had left, eat lunch, try and sleep more, and, what she supposed could be seen as the pathetic climax of her day, take one of her usual trips down to the Hog's Head. This did not particularly thrill Astoria, to say the least. In fact, she rather dreaded these little excursions and had half a mind to just this once skip out of the little adventure.
Sighing to herself, the girl sat up. She knew herself well enough to know she would, at five o'clock on the dot, be heading down the secret passageway to Hogsmeade, whether she liked it or not. She turned her head to the ornate, sterling silver floor-length mirror that had occupied her dormitory for as long as she could remember, and stared flatly at her reflection. The same pale face, small, slightly upturned nose and amber eyes stared back at her, her dark wavy hair, as usual, a bit too much on the wild side to be what one would really classify as pretty. All in all, she was no Daphne.
"You'll never get anywhere with that attitude." The mirror chided, as if reading her mind. Astoria rolled her eyes. Bloody mirror.
She let her eyes float lazily around the circular room for a moment, taking in the empty beds surrounding her on either side. She was currently the only female seventh year Slytherin. At the beginning of the year especially, the girl had considered this a relief. She was never particularly fond of the girls in her year and as most of their families had gone into hiding from the Aurors when the war ended, and the others never really planned on staying for their seventh year anyway, she now didn't have to deal with their constant bitching.
And yes, in all actuality, Astoria would admit that this was a bit depressing. Sure, the girls were a nuisance and their plots and conspiracies against other students, and one another at times, did start to bore Astoria after awhile, but they were, after all, her housemates. And sure, things were more peaceful and less agitating, but it was also quiet, eerily so, even.
Except for hers, smack dab in the middle of the room, the metallic four-poster beds, made of the same sterling silver, and with the same intertwining snakes and roses as the mirror in the corner of the room, all arranged in a semi-circle around, were empty, and the crisp emerald walls free of posters and photographs. The green silk bedding remained untouched, and the checkered black and white marble floor clear of the usual heels and lacey undergarments that once littered its surface, for once showing clearly the Snake's Circle in it's center.
Astoria let her eyes rest on the snake. Really, it was the most magnificent feature of the room, more so, even than the mirror, which her roommates had much preferred. A black marble border surrounded a tiny pond, made with different colored stones and gems, in it a loosely coiled black snake with large eyes made of emeralds, and a small, forked ruby tongue. It was fond of swimming in small circles, something Astoria had learned in her first year would make you quite nauseous if you watched for too long. They had named it once, but Astoria had long since forgotten what exactly that name had been.
"It's just me and you, bud," she told the snake flatly. It gave an unenthusiastic wiggle, and then settled back into position, sleeping soundly and letting the water wash over it. "I appreciate your effort," Astoria muttered, shaking her head. She shoved a thick section of matted hair behind her ear and finally stood up. She threw on a pair of dirty, crumpled jeans, ignoring the stain the leg that she couldn't quite identify, and a thick, grey cashmere sweater that was a bit tight in the stomach and definitely around her already full hips, making the girl decide it had likely once have belonged to her perfectly trim sister.
"You can't be leaving like that!" the mirror screeched as her hand met with the silver doorknob.
"Sorry," Astoria replied, catching her own eye in the mirror, "it's not getting any better than this." And in the girl's opinion, nothing truer had come out of her mouth.
Like many of the Hog's Head's occupants preferred, Astoria kept the hood of her cloak pulled over her face, her lips, painted as deep a crimson as her hood, being her only visible feature. She shifted, almost uneasily, on her stool. Patience was never her strongest virtue.
These trips were the only time she played up the dramatic flare she knew, being a Greengrass, she must have, but she didn't really enjoy it as much she had at first expected herself to. The red on her lips was thick and dry, making it feel as if they had been lightly glazed with cement. And the hood she used to cover her face- well, it covered her face. She couldn't bloody see out of it. The first few times, she remembered with a cringe, she'd stumbled everywhere and almost tripped over a hag. She had been certainly glad to hear it when that hag, who never quite forgave her, had moved to Norway.
Astoria's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. He was late. She only had one customer scheduled for that night, and yet she would still probably be falling asleep on her stool before it was finally time for her to leave. The box in her lap seemed to grow heavier and heavier until finally, against her better judgment, the brunette heaved the box to the counter, and stretched her legs with relief, wincing slightly as her knees cracked beneath her. She could hardly say how long she'd really been waiting, except that it'd felt like a lifetime.
"Again?" asked the barista, one eyebrow raised. Astoria scowled slightly, but didn't reply. She couldn't tell if the lady was questioning that she was here, yet again, or if she was ordering another round of a strong alcoholic beverage, yet again. The barista, whose name the brunette had never taken the time to learn, shook her head and walked away, returning a few moments with her usual glass of Firewhisky. To be honest, the girl couldn't quite say what glass this was. But then again, it had been a while since she'd bother trying to keep track.
"Hogwarts must have really relaxed since I left," the barista sniffed, and flounced, as well as a woman of her seize could, back to the other side of the bar. Astoria rolled her eyes. So, technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but let's be honest. With all the repairs and Harry Freaking Potter popping in every ten minutes, no one would notice if one stupid Slytherin went missing for an hour. Or three.
Astoria picked up her glass, ignoring it's obviously smudged exterior and took a sip, relishing the deep burn that traveled from her throat down to her stomach. Since its importance in the Battle of Hogwarts, the Hog's Head, thankfully, had sunk back into its usual obscurity. Though the passageway from the Room of Requirement hadn't been used in years, Hogwarts seemed to have an odd way of aiding anyone wishing to break the rules set for them. All of the secret passageways, now known and patrolled by all teachers, were for the time being near impossible to use. However, once the Restoration had started, Hogwarts itself had joined in with the volunteers who spent all day on that task alone, by beginning to fix small bits of itself even parts, Astoria had quickly learned, that had been damaged long before the Battle had ever taken place.
"Hey! Hey!" With slight annoyance, Astoria glanced up, expecting it to be her that the surly, middle-aged woman was calling to, but with admittedly a bit of surprise, Astoria found the woman completely turned away from her, the barista's meaty arms resting on her wide hips. "Liston filth," she spat, her tone laced with spiky venom, "I know what you've been up to- sneaking off and what not! If you think I won't do anything about it-"
A faint murmur could be heard from the corner of the pub, but the barista was blocking any view Astoria may have had. The girl craned her neck to see past the woman, but it was in complete vain.
"Fell asleep? Fell asleep?" The woman screeched. Astoria glanced around the room to see if anyone else was taking note of the spectacle. The only other customers she could see, two older men in ill-fitting robes that seemed almost to swallow them, had indeed noticed, and were smirking across the room, with odd looks mixing appreciation and triumph. "Whataya think this is? A bloody nursery?" She continued, ending with a crackling laugh that made Astoria's toes curl.
This time Astoria could make out a small, decidedly male, voice say, "- won't happen again, I-"
"Damn right it won't," the woman sneered. She grabbed a rag soaking in a nearby bucket and tossed it to the corner as she walked around the bar and towards the door disappearing to the back of the pub. "Now be a dear and for once, do your bloody job!" With that the woman slammed the door shut behind her, sending dust and small insects falling from the ceiling above. For the first time, Astoria got a good look at the boy standing in the corner of the room, the soaking, brown rag hanging limp in his pale hands. The brunette felt her dark eyes widen and she quickly shifted her gaze down to the floor. A few seconds later, her heart having sped up a considerable bit, Astoria snuck another glance, sure her eyes had been playing tricks on her, but still the boy stood, taking a deep breaths, as if trying to steady himself before starting to wipe down the nearest table.
This time it was much harder for the girl to tear her eyes away, because now there was no questioning that it was Draco Malfoy who stood before her, much thinner than she ever remembered, his gaunt face completely blank, forcefully void of any emotion.
Astoria raked her thumb over her fingers, an anxious habit she'd had for as long as she could remember, and twisted her body around so she no longer faced the youngest Malfoy. She quickly drained the rest of her Firewhisky, feeling her head rush slightly as she did so. Keeping her eyes down and hood up as always, Astoria pushed herself off of her stool, wobbling more than she chose to admit, and headed for the door. The brunette had her hand outstretched, ready to rush out of the pub as quick as her shaky legs could take her, when a slightly wheezy voice caused her to stop in her tracks.
"Regret it all now, don't you boy?" One of the men grinned, revealing rows of discolored, uneven teeth. Draco ignored him and continued working, his arms circling the table over and over, but an undeniable pink tinge now plagued his cheeks.
The brunette felt what was sure to be alcohol induced anger coarse through her as the man continued, "S'bout time a young sleaze like yourself learned-"
"I think," the brunette said, taking a surprisingly steady step forward, "that's enough." She pushed her hood off of her head, revealing her pale face and vivid amber eyes, shinning bright with her liquid anger. Astoria, however, was not phased by her new found since of bravery, sure it was a result of the Firewhisky, as it's warmth still lingered in her stomach and surely on her breath. She met the man's gaze, if only to keep her own away from Draco. The man coughed out a laugh, but kept steadily kept eye contact. "Come on now, miss. No harm in showing the grime where it-"
"I said, that's enough," Astoria repeated, raising her voice just slightly louder. A part of the girl's mind was shrieking for her to stop, this way not her place, don't get yourself noticed, stay unseen, don't get involved in anything, but it was too late to back down now. She raised her chin slightly and the man's laugh slowed to a stop, and an almost hostile frown formed. "You know who this is?" he demanded, jabbing his thumb towards Draco. "Who this coward is? Him and the rest of his pathetic family, in with You-Know-Who right until the last possible-"
Draco had turned away. Again, Astoria noticed his shoulders rise and fall slowly, deliberately. He was keeping himself in check. Self-perseveration.
"Stop!" The brunette almost jumped at the sound of her own voice and the authority it rang with. Firewhisky, of course, the girl thought quickly, but did not fight it. The man's lips curled behind his teeth. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly stopped and shrank back. Astoria momentarily wondered if it was somehow her that had made the man react so, but, feeling dread wash through her, the girl felt a warm hand clasp her shoulder. Astoria did jump now, expecting a professor or perhaps even the barista, but instead came face-to-face with a young blonde man, much healthier-looking than Draco, who had quickly scattered off to clean another table, with warm brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a rather square jaw. "You two have been here for about three drinks longer than usual," he said, his voice firm, but not cold. "Don't you think it may be time for you both to head out?" The two men at the table met eyes, then shifted back to the man behind Astoria, his hand still on her shoulder, obviously sizing him up, and then, grumbling, and shooting a nasty glare at Draco, the two slunk out of the pub and out of sight.
Astoria turned to the man behind her, opened her mouth to say something, though not quite sure what, but he had already pushed through the door, letting it swing to a shut behind him before the brunette could get a word out. Finally, she let her eyes wander to where the first blonde stood, watching her. The rag had been deposited back into the bucket. His hands seemed oddly empty without it. The two continued to stare at each other, obviously unsure of what to say. Or better yet, if there was anything to be said at all.
Finally, Astoria forced herself to turn around, and without a glance back, pushed the door with her full body weight and stumbled out of the pub.
For the second time that day, Astoria felt the same warm hand grab ahold of her. The brunette steadied herself and then let her eyes slide to the man's face. His brown eyes flicked with a set of emotions she was used to receiving, a stern contempt, and yet mild curiosity. He looked vaguely familiar and must, the girl realized, be one of the wizards volunteering on the Restoration.
Astoria wiggled out of his grasp and stared almost defiantly into his round eyes. "I can stand, thanks," she told him coolly, smoothing her cloak down over her hips. I can handle my own alcohol too, she wanted to add, but refrained herself from doing so. She knew it must have been what was on the man's mind, from the flickers of concern that betrayed themselves to Astoria's eyes.
"Sasha," the honey-blonde said, extending a rough, bronze hand. Astoria blinked and stared down at it for a fraction of a second, before hesitantly accepting the gesture, and shaking the man's callused hands. She didn't, however, offer up her name. She didn't need to. The emerald-striped tie now poking just barely out at her neck she'd noticed him eyeing no doubt told him everything he needed to know. "If I'm correct," he started, offering a small smile, "I believe you're due at the castle as well."
Not liking the amusement that rimmed his eyes, Astoria nearly shrugged. "I suppose," she replied, her eyes scanning over the man, judging, critical. However, the girl's ice-cold gaze only made Sasha's smile stretch at the corner, causing more than one twinge of annoyance.
He was young, Astoria realized, in his late twenties most likely, well built, with eyes that practically shown with eagerness, all in all, the exact type that had been coming in and out of Hogwarts castle lately. As if only to press her further, he offered out his arm, elbow bended, clearly expecting her to take it. "Again," she told him, upper lip curling, "I can-"
"Apparition," he cut in quickly, his tone still friendly, "has been lifted in the Great Hall for another," he glanced at the silver watch dangling off of his wrist, "thirteen minutes. Walking, of course, is completely permissible, however-" If only to make him shut up, Astoria grasped ahold of his arm. "Right then," he smiled, and just like that, they were gone.
"Ah, yes, we've been expecting you-" Professor McGonagall stopped. Her eyes lowered to the girl standing next to the blonde, her lips growing thinner with each passing second.
Firewhisky and apparition, the girl noted, were a bad combination. She should refrain from mixing the two in the future. Suddenly, Astoria realized her arm was still looped in between Sasha's, and most of her weight was on him as well, as she was leaning into his side. She forced herself to stand up straight and yanked herself away with a scowl, folding both arms defensively over her chest. "Picked up a straggler," Sasha grinned, nodding his head toward Astoria, who resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. This day was not at all going how she'd planned. It was even worse.
"I can see as much," McGonagall replied in the usual cool, offhand tone she used when dealing with any members of the Slytherin house. Astoria only stared up at her, saying nothing. Opening her mouth, she knew, would be suicide. "You should note, Miss Greengrass, the next time a Professor catches you off of school grounds, you will in fact be-"
"Wait," Astoria said, breaking her own personal method of survival, shut up and don't care. Her eyes moved from McGonagall to Sasha. "Professor?"
Once again, Sasha stuck his hand out. "Professor Vaisey, Defense Against the Dark Arts."
There were so many things wrong with that statement. First of all, Sasha- Professor Vaisey- whatever she was supposed to call him, was obviously too young to be teaching. Astoria was certain she'd never had a professor younger than late-forties, and that was pushing it. Second, Defense Against the Dark Arts was awkward for her anyway. The last thing she wanted to do was add this obnoxious, over-eager professor to the mix.
Besides, they already had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Old Professor… Uh, well, whatever his name was, who- who Oh wait. Dragon Pox.
"I think it's well past time for you to be on your way to you dormitory, Miss Greengrass," McGonagall sniffed, casting the brunette another disapproving scan of her eyes.
It was eight o'clock, at the absolute latest, but Astoria didn't argue. Where else did she have to go, anyway? Without saying a word, Astoria turned on her heel and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring the few volunteers who stared after her as she did so. The Great Hall was their meeting spot, and this week's task, she'd noticed, was the Astronomy Tower. Well. She could think of one or two Ravenclaw whores who would be happy to hear about that.
"Wait- Astoria!"
The brunette slowed her pace but didn't stop walking. She glanced over her shoulder and saw, as she suspected, the new blonde professor. He slowed beside her and stopped. After a second, Astoria did the same. They stared at each other for a long while before the brunette finally said, "Don't you think your perfect super-hero jaw and alluring facial hair will get in the way of your career? They're probably quite a distraction." Making fun of someone for good looks was so fourth-year boy, but it was the only thing Astoria had been able to think to say. What she really wanted to know was how he knew her name- ah wait. McGonagall. No doubt she'd been warning him to watch his back, after all, he'd been alone with a Slytherin. Oh, such horror.
The professor blinked, and then, slowly, a smile tugged at his full lips and he replied, "Well, I'm getting up there in years, you know. These positively debonair features will be concealed by wrinkles and liver spots in no time."
"Ah," Astoria replied, lacking the proper witty response necessary. What could she say? Wit beyond measure was someone else's greatest treasure.
There was another long, awkward pause between them before Astoria icily asked, "Was there something you wanted?" Her eyes flicked to the other side of the hallway where Susan Bones and Hermione Granger were walking with one another, arms linked, heads tipped back in laughter. Astoria forced her lip not to curl. Oh yes, their lives must be simply wonderful now, what with the entire Wizarding World now basking in their glowing, martyr glory. Not that she had anything wrong with the two personally; she couldn't care less about either of them, especially not enough to hate them, but God. She couldn't help find them so effing annoying. Yes, yes, life is now simply sublime and after spending a year rebuilding your perfect little families you're back at good 'ole Hogwarts! Here to take education by storm for one last glorious, sunny, laughter-filled year! It made Astoria want to hurl.
Professor Vaisey, Astoria finally noticed, had been watching her glare down the two witches. The brunette felt her face heat. She couldn't be seen throwing dirty looks to Hermione Granger of all people, and she hadn't meant to really, it was just hard not to hate her. She had no idea how lucky she was. "Must be nice to be perfect," Astoria said, in a semi-desperate attempt to backtrack. Was it how she really felt about the two? Nope. But was it what any Hogwarts professor would want to hear after such a spectacle? Yep! For the first time that day, Vaisey's grin slipped, just enough to be noticed. Astoria, once again, applied self-preservation rule number two; don't care. This in mind, she didn't wonder why.
"I'm looking forward to having you I class."
Astoria glanced up at him, taken aback. His eyes didn't seem mocking and he didn't look uncomfortable, meaning he wasn't saying what he had out of obligation, which was the only reason why Astoria could imagine he would have felt the need to say such a thing. Not being able to think of any other reply, the brunette managed a single, "Why?'"
Maybe it had come out a bit more forceful than she'd meant to, because now it was his turn to look a bit abashed. But before he could answer, McGonagall was back, speaking in a rushed tone to Vaisey. She caught sight of Astoria staring at the two and said, her voice particularly stern, "Your dormitory, Miss Greengrass!" Silent as usual, Astoria gave no sign of acknowledgement that she'd heard the professor, but continued down the hallway anyways. It wasn't until she was about to turn the corner did the girl find herself glancing back, only to discover Vaisey watching her, almost intently. Astoria thought she might have seen him smile, but she'd rounded her way to the next hallway before she could be sure.
She shook her head and walked down the steps to the dungeons. Stupid, new-age professor trying to get on Slytherin House's good side so he doesn't end up dead in some rouge Death Eater attack, most likely. Yes, Astoria thought glancing down at herself, because there was no doubt she would be useful in protecting anyone from anything. Hell, knowing her she'd probably end up selling them out and- her box.
Astoria groaned. Of course she'd left the bloody box on the bar counter. And she'd skipped out on a customer. The brunette felt like banging her head against the wall. Business was shaky as it was, she couldn't be known as a flake too! There goes any hope of ever getting out of this God forsaken country, she thought viciously, if had hadn't been for damn Malfoy-
Again, the brunette stopped. Draco. She felt unease pulse through her. He was a prime example of why- well, why she couldn't do a damn thing about his…condition. Shut up. Don't care. The brunette had to keep her head down. She couldn't risk going back to Hogsmeade to get her supplies, and it would be a blessing (though a rather lame one) if she could even make it back next week. She would indeed have to be careful not to call any attention to herself for the next month or so. Above all, Astoria Greengrass needed to stay invisible.
A/N Well, thank you for reading! I started school today (yay -_-) and decided it was about time to get this up and running as well. This is completely DH compliant, because that's the way I like it. I hope you all enjoyed, more chapters to come soon! Please, please, make my day and leave a review!