I know I'm still writing Scorpius, and I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP! But in a moment of writers block I wrote this and many other story starts and I actually thought this one was rather good, so please R&R!
FULL SUMMARY: A few years after the war minister shacklebolt decides to pair up students from Harry and Ginny's years to bridge the gap between the opposing sides. NOT a marriage law or even really a dating one but the have to spend a minimum of three days a week in each others company. Will there tentative new friendships survive years of prejudice, and will they blossom into something more?
Ok admittedly terrible summary. Just give it a go.
"Well Joe I've gotta tell you we've had a lot of odd encounters with these little fella's over the years but this one seems to be the most widespread, even more so than the flurry two years ago-though with a new development, several of the beloved birds, previously believed to be entirely nocturnal, appear to be carrying letters-"
Harry Potter groaned, pressing the off switch and turning the cracked screen black. He'd found the tiny television in the attic of Grimmauld place, probably some elaborate prank of Sirius' that was never carried out, or a colorful addition to one of Kreachers collections. It was old, and not good for much but picking up the muggle news-which was interesting from time to time-but it was one of the few things he had that had probably belonged to his godfather, so he'd lugged it into Regulus' old bedroom and let it gather dust where he could see it.
Today, however, was one of the rare day's the news was actually worth watching, as it confirmed the slip of parchment folded in his hand. The letter's had come from the ministry, today was really it. Harry glared silently at the envelope, silently willing it to have the courage to do what he'd failed to in the past hour and open up. Unfortunately, plan B was a no go. He grabbed his mug off the table-Kreachers best coffee which he'd spiked with a bit of firewhisky. Kingsley had explained the reasoning to him, why the law was SO necessary, and why the only eligible group for it's completion was Harry's year-the most famous class of hogwarts students still young and mostly unmarried. He also knew he'd agreed to it. That didn't mean he had to like it.
With wizarding Moral and population at an all time low, along with the imminent slow and painful rebuilding of the ministry, Kingsley, along with several order members had decided the best thing they could do would be to enforce a new law. For exactly one year, the entire class of '98 along with the class of 99' would be randomly paired and forced on what Kingsley called a long-term blind date. Not a marriage law, but enough to force him, and everyone he knew, to spend "quality time" with there opposition. It was the perfect plan in most people's eyes, probably because it didn't affect them in the slightest.
And here it was, unopened in his slightly shaky hands, the letter that would tell him the name of the girl he had to spend 365 days with.
"Your a bloody Gryffindor for Godrics sake-you're the chosen one-you killed the greatest dark wizard of all time, you inadvertently survived the killing curse twice-you sound bloody insane." He banged his head against the peeling green wallpaper he hadn't bothered to refurbish.
"Come on Potter," He said, chucking the letter towards the unlit fireplace. Why is it always me, he thought with a smile, remembering when Neville had echoed those words dangling from a chandelier in Lockhart's office in their second year. Neville! Neville and Ron and Hermione would have there letters by now-he'd gotten his ages ago. With that thought he sent another glare at the purple parchment.
"Man up Potter," He muttered, and swinging his feet off his bed he grabbed the envelope and trying not to think about what he was doing, ripped it open. A thin slip of lavender paper toppled out, emblazoned with this curling letters. Legal reasoning, rationings, guidelines, fiscal reimbursements, he skimmed the letter until he reached the very bottom, were a single name was printed in swift black ink. Harry gulped and forced his eyes to confront it.
ASTORIA GREENGRASS
Status: Pureblood, unengaged.
Previous house: Slytherin
Work: None
Parents: Melanie and Oswald Greengrass
Notable relations: Pansy Parkinson, cousin, Daphne Greengrass, sister.
23 words. That was everything he knew about Astoria Greengrass. She might have been that tall blonde girl who hung around gossiping Pansy Parkinson, or the one who used to talk to Malfoy with the red hair so dark it was almost black, or just some faceless person. A slytherin, an enemy.
He tucked the parchment into his breast pocket and downing the rest of his "coffee" drew out his wand.
"Incendio," He muttered, pointing at the fireplace in front of him which burst forth into dancing flames. He grabbed a handful of gritty green powder, and tossed it in, turning the fire a rather unpleasant shade of green.
"KREACHER GOING OUT!" He yelled and wincing he stepped into the fire, it was high time he met with his friends. "The Burrow!" he shouted, and everything started to spin.
It was only a matter of moments before he tumbled onto the familiar hearthrug, wincing and rubbing his neck, he'd never really liked the floo.
"OY!" A familiar voice yelled, "Harry's here," There was a great tumult of voices and Harry clamored awkwardly to his feet, meeting the eyes of a very grim faced Ron Weasley.
"How'd you do mate," Ron asked, grabbing his arm as he swayed dangerously to the left.
"Astoria Greengrass."
"Who?"
"I dunno, she's a slytherin from our year, cousin's with Parkinson." At the mention of Pansy Ron's expression darkened dangerously. Harry's eyes widened,
"No-"
"Of all the bloody girls in the School," Ron said, collapsing onto a cushy armchair that looked as though it might've been nicked from the Gryffindor common room. "Pansy Bloody Parkinson, for a whole year!" He covered his face in his hands. "I think I might have to take an tip from Dumbledore and book a one way trip of the astronomy tower." Harry winced slightly, thinking it was probably best not to mention to Ron at least he knew his match, but was startled when Ron suddenly grinned.
"You won't believe who they gave Hermione-she won't come out of her room."
"Who," Harry said frowning.
"It's-your not going to believe me-I," he laughed, "I don't know if I can say it." He reached into his pocket and tugged out a slip identical to the one crumpled against Harry's chest, though as he flattened it against his knee he could make out the words "to miss Hermione Granger." He skipped to the bottom and nearly choked.
The words DRACO MALFOY were etched in the same clear print as ASTORIA GREENGRASS had been on his. Just then Ginny Weasley, her hair tucked into a messy ponytail, came storming into the room.
"Theodore Nott! Of all the lowly Slytherin bastards in this world-" She noticed Harry, who waved slightly. She glanced at him for a moment and then said,
"What's the damage?"
"Astoria Greengrass," he said digging the parchment out of his pocket and tossing it at her.
"The pretty blonde always hanging around Parkinson like some sort of sick puppy?" She asked raising her eyebrows.
"Your guess is better than mine," he said with a shrug. "How'd everyone else do?"
"Well Nevilles got someone named Arabella Flourish, I think she's a Ravenclaw, Luna's got Zambini, and Hermione," She giggled slightly, obviously trying very hard not to laugh. "It's horrible really I shouldn't-"
"I've already heard about that one. Do you think they'll make it a week before one them kills the other?" But to Harry's surprise Ginny only snorted.
"More likely they'll spend the whole month waiting to see who will speak first," Ron frowned.
"Where'd you get that idea?" Ginny shrugged.
"Isn't it obvious?" They both shook their heads in unison, and Ginny muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "boys".
"Well, Malfoy and Hermione-they can be a bit, competitive, sometimes. Mark my words it'll be the quietest hell on the planet."
"I'll take you up on that," Ron said, digging a couple coins out of his pocket. "Five galleons says they fight in the first hour,"
"Your on, Ginny said, taking the money into her pocket. Harry smiled, Ron and Ginny would always find a way to make a profit off of others suffering.
"Well," he said standing up. "I think it's time I meet this 'Astoria Greengrass.'"
"Are you serious?" Ron said jumping to his feet.
"I have to spend a year with her, he answered, shrugging. "Might as well start now." He grabbed a handful of the powder on the fireplace mantle, as gritty and green as it had been back at grimmauld place. He grinned, stepping into the flames. "Give Hermione my love!" and then yelled "GREENGRASS MANOR," and in a whir of light, everything was gone.
The real problem with the floo, in Harry's opinion, was not the rocky landings or the awful tickling sensation, or even the unpleasantly warm green fire. No, it was that if you decided halfway to your destination that it would be better to go back, maybe talk ask Fred or Charlie who they'd gotten, or try to talk to Hermione-anything but barge into the mansion of the random Slytherin girl you're meant to date for a year and look like an idiot when you can't make the landing off there fireplace. No take backs, bloody wizarding transport.
Greengrass manor must have been awfully far away, because Harry had a good three minutes to consider how stupid he was too rashly dive into the fire before the spinning started to slow. Well you've done it now, he thought as he spotted a great plate of black marble dusted with ash that could only have belong to a Pureblood. Here goes nothing, he thought struggling to keep his eyes open as he bent his knees anticipating the crash-
BOOM. He skidded across the marble fireplace his trainers dragging across what felt like wood as he stumbled down onto the floor, his glasses falling over his nose. Still, he didn't hear anyone coming, maybe no one was home? He scrambled awkwardly to his feet dusting off his jeans and slipping his holly wand, which had skidded across the floor, back into his pocket. He pushed his glasses back over the bridge of his nose. Less idiotic. Not good, but not awful. He waited a moment, listening for a yell or a footstep, anything to suggest the whole place wasn't hopelessly abandoned. Nothing.
"Er, Hullo?" He said rather loudly, walking up to the door and pushing it open. He leaned out of the doorframe searching for some sign of human existence...
"Most people knock you know." Harry jumped and turned on the spot, grabbing his wand from his pocket and pointing it towards-a girl. A slim blonde girl with pale blue eyes that reminded him eerily of Malfoy. Her lip was curved and her eyebrows raised, like he'd just managed a troll on some sort of test. Greengrass, he thought, not lowering his wand.
"What did Pansy Parkinson say when Voldemort asked for me as ransom for the safety of Hogwarts?" The questions. During the war polyjuice potion had saved him multiple times, he'd been fooled by it before. He knew there was no reason anyone would try to fool him into thinking they were someone else, but it was a habit he hadn't been able to kick. But he didn't know Astoria Greengrass, all he knew was that she was a student of Hogwarts for the same seven years he was, and all of them, even the Slytherins, had heard voldemorts message before the battle. All of them had heard Parkinson sell him out. It wasn't specific enough for Harry's liking, but it would do.
"But he's there, Potter's there, someone grab him." She said coldly, her sly grin sliding into a frown. Word for word. He lowered his wand, tucking it back into his pocket.
"Sorry," he said, trying not to sound insincere but not making much of an effort. "I had to check."
"How did McGonagall refute Pansy's request?" Greengrass asked softly, fingering a bit of light yellow wood sticking out of her sleeve.
"'Thank you Miss Parkinson you will leave the hall first with Mr. Filch, if the rest of your house could follow." She seemed satisfied, at least, the wand disappeared back into her sweater. It was funny, he thought, glancing her up and down. The blonde wore a powder blue sweater and skinny jeans, muggle clothes. He'd always thought purebloods would were some sort of silver-clasped robes in there off time, or at least some ancient looking evening clothes.
"I'm Astoria Greengrass," She said, breaking the silence. "But I would assume Potter, based on the fact that you've just fell through the fireplace that you already knew that. Or have you gotten lost on the way to the lou?" He cracked a smile without realizing it, and then quickly stifled the grin, it was funny to hear a Slytherin crack a joke, they'd always seemed sort of morbid, except Malfoy, but most of his were at Harry's expense.
"No, I was really looking for the linen cabinet, but then I found this odd sort of powder lying around my house and," he raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You know how that is." She laughed, it was brief, but deep and booming-not anything like her voice which sounded like it would shatter if he pushed it to hard.
"Well," she said. "I'm personally enjoying the smell of burning flesh and the bitter cold of the marble parlor, and I'm sure sharp black angels are very familiar with," she waved a hand over his hair. "This. But if you want to go to the sitting room I don't think I'll be too heartbroken." He didn't bother with his hair, he knew from 19 years of experience it was useless, but he grinned again, somewhat awkwardly.
"Oh I suppose I'll oblige, though I have to admit, dusty gray marble and badly applied walpaper are definite turn ons for me." He fought back a blush, that didn't sound like him at all, maybe George was rubbing off on him. He met the blonde girls gaze. The corner of her mouth tipped up.
"Alright Potter, " she said, turning toward the door. "Noted." With that she walked into the hall, and with a bemused smile, he followed.
The sitting room was a lot nicer than the parlor, with a great cushy couch that was as equally gryfindorish, (except in color) as the Weasley's armchairs. Harry found himself longing to sit down, his legs still hurt from two rounds of the floo in one day, but Greengrass didn't, so he settled for eyeing them longingly.
"So, I suppose we've been set up." Greengrass spoke up, quirking one of her nearly invisible eyebrows, never thought I'd meet anyone blonder than Malfoy, he thought, suddenly realizing she was waiting for a response.
"Yeah-Kinsley calls it the 99 blind dates decree," he said, smiling weakly at the minister's joke.
"Kinsley?" Greengrass asked, frowning as though very displeased at the thought he might have a connection she didn't know about. She's a Slytherin, he thought, she probably is.
"Minister Shacklebolt," he said, trying very hard to make it sound like an ill placed name drop. To his surprise she laughed, not the booming laugh but a haughty tinkly one.
"So you agreed to this?" Harry felt himself redden, not trying to hide it this time.
"Well," he said, holding out his hands. "I figured it would be better than yet another blood war, I mean I guess the third time round it wouldn't be nearly as complicated-but I don't really fancy another go." She laughed again, sincerely this time.
"Well, I suppose I could give you a few spoilers-Snape was really Dumbledores, and Dumbledore is dead, and the snake is a Horcrux-" She stopped, cutting herself off. "But I suppose that would spoil all the joy another seven years of figuring it out would bring you." He joined in laughing this time, it felt oddly liberating to laugh about all the terrible things the last few years had brought-like he was truly and sincerely acknowledging that it was over for the first time in two years.
"You know," he said, glancing back at Greengrass. "I thought all Slytherins were meant to be deceitful and cunning and avoid frankness at all costs to promote there stunning personal records." She met his eyes still smiling.
"And I thought Gryffindor's were all supposed to be great brawny arrogant thugs without an ounce of intelligence." She looked him over briefly. "I'm disappointed to say you've failed as miserably at fitting your stereotypes as I have mine." He smiled again. It felt so good to smile, really smile, so good he nearly forgot who he was talking to-that they were meant to be enemies.
"Yes we've both made a rather obvious blunder, haven't we?" He said, grabbing her shoulder earnestly-and hardly recognizing the physical contact. "You get used to it after a while." She laughed and soon they were both laughing until they collapsed rather awkwardly onto the couch. Eventually Harry was forced to stop for a breath.
"I don't mean to be rude," he said, and she rolled her eyes. "But I'm hungry."
"Sorry to disappoint you Potter," she said. "But I don't cook."
"Don't you have elves?" He asked, surprised
"At our actual house," she said smirking. "I was just here to find a book, we don't live in the manor."
"It is a bit horrifying," Harry said, glancing around, Astoria's jaw dropped at the frankness, but he was already standing.
"Well luckily for you, I can cook," he said holding out a hand, which she took cautiously. "Will it be pasta or pasta?" Harry didn't know why he was so comfortable around the Slytherin. Maybe it was because no one else was here-but somehow he wasn't in the mood to argue. And Greengrass was easy to talk to, he had to give her that.
The kitchen, thought dusty, had a ready stock of spaghetti and enough vegetables for a rather bland sauce. He grabbed a few plates and bowls and easily started to boil the water and mix the marinara. Astoria Greengrass watched him with raised eyebrows as he navigated around the very Dursley-ish kitchen.
"When you said you could cook I figured you knew a spell." Harry shook his head, ripping the plastic off the noodle package.
"Haven't got a clue how to cook with magic. Thought after the woods I wouldn't mind learning." He went back to his sauce, quickly adding a bit of rather old basil.
"The what?" She asked, sounding confused. Harry cursed himself, he was two used to Ron and Hermione who instantly knew everything he was talking about, mostly because they'd usually been there.
"When we were hunting down Voldemort-" Harry noticed Greengrass didn't flinch. "-All we really had to eat was whatever we could find in the woods, usually," he wrinkled his nose even thinking about it. "Mushrooms."
"Oh," Greengrass said, sounding uncomfortable, she quickly changed the subject. "Where'd you learn to cook then?"
"Muggles," he said, trying to sound casual. He hadn't seen the Dursleys since before his seventeenth birthday and he hardly ever thought about them anymore, the surge of hatred at his old guardians was oddly unfamiliar now. Astoria seemed to see through it though, because she didn't interrogate him further.
"So," she asked after a few moments of listening to the pasta sizzle. "Do you know who everyone else got." Harry nodded smiling slightly.
"Nevilles got some ravenclaw, something Flourish I think, Ron's got Pansy Parkinson-" at this Greengrass seemed to choke on the water she'd poured herself while Harry wasn't looking.
"RON WEASLEY!" Harry nodded stirring his pasta, which was nearly ready.
"He's not too pleased about it either, they never really got along..."
"You don't understand," Astoria said grimacing. "Pansy's got to be the biggest drama queen in all of London, she'll-"
"-She'll have a hard time beating Ron on that front," Harry said grinning, at the thought of his ginger friend. "That's gonna be something to watch." Astoria snorted.
"Knowing Pansy you'd be better off running." Harry shook his head.
"That's not the worst of it though. You know who Hermione's got?" Astoria looked at him, narrowing her eyes.
"No..."
"Yep," he said, grinning. "Malfoy himself, Ron and Ginny have a bet going about how long they'll last."
"Bloody hell," Astoria muttered breathlessly. "For an anti-military project the Ministry is going to have a lot of murder's on it's conscience the way this is going." Harry nodded, dumping the pasta into two bowls and spreading a bit of sauce on each. He slid one over to Astoria. When did she become Astoria, he thought curiously eyeing the pretty blonde.
Astoria, was looking suspiciously at the pasta, poking it a bit with her fork.
"I haven't poisoned it," he said, smiling, "Thought that would have been clever." Her eyes widened and she shoved him off his seat. He scrambled up to his feet, facing the laughing blonde. "Oh, it's on Greengrass."
"You wouldn't hit a girl?" She said sweetly.
"No," he said softly, "But I have no restraints about tickling one!" And with that he
lunged forward, and the battle began. Astoria's eyes widened in fear and then she doubled over laughing uncontrollably.
"P-potter! St-st-op th-this instant!" But he only laughed, and suddenly there was a shift in her eyes.
"You wanna play dirty?" She said, and she reached forward grabbing for his foot. By the time they managed to get a breath in the pasta had cooled a little and they went back to eating, mostly to avoid the horrors of tickling. It was funny, Harry thought, how easily they got along even though they weren't supposed to. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad year after all.
"This is actually kind of good," Astoria said, taking a second wary bite of her pasta. Harry snorted.
"Was that meant to be a compliment?"
"I thought that was obvious." Harry would have laughed but his stomach hurt at the thought of it. He hadn't laughed this much in one sitting since...well, he couldn't remember.
"So Potter, beside the fact that you won the triwizard tournament when you were fourteen and defeated lord voldemort three years later I don't know much about you." Harry blushed.
"There's not much more to tell. Saving the world from a satanic psychopath is kind of a full time job, and I didn't enter that tournament, Barty Crouch Jr disguised as Mad Eye Moody did. And the game was rigged, Voldemort needed me in that graveyard-I didn't really win."
"Modesty?" Astoria said, sounding surprised. "Not very Gryffindor of you Potter, not very Gryffindor at all."
"Well the hat tried to put me in Slytherin," he blurted, and then his eyes widened when he realized what he'd said. No living soul knew that about him, and now he'd confessed to the pureblood girl he'd met an hour ago. He looked up at Astoria, expecting her to be choking on her pasta, but she didn't look surprised in the slightest.
"You know we always kind of expected that," she said, and noticing his confused expression elaborated. "The other Slytherins and I. The parseltongue, the sneaky plans, being unwilling to make an enemy were you weren't sure you if you could make an ally-along with the Gryffindor qualities of throwing yourself rashly into horrible situations, and even that could be treated as trusting your gut. Draco would never admit it, but your very Slytherin Potter."
"You know if you were any of my friends I think I would hex you, but that sounded a bit like praise."
"Look Potter-just because I'm in Slytherin doesn't make me some bloody psychopath. I didn't even support Voldemorts movement, my mum was a Ravenclaw who just happened to marry a pureblood. My dad died in the first war, fighting for your arse, so don't insult me." Harry's eyes widened, and he held up his hands in surrender.
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it-I thought we were trading insults, all in good sportsmanship, I never tried to target Slytherin." Astoria relaxed, her shoulders slumping as she stared down at her pasta.
"Sorry," she said after a moment of silence. "I guess we've all still got a bit of baggage from the war."
"Preaching to the choir," Harry said, downing a few noodles.
"What?" She said sounding genuinely confused. Harry laughed, he'd forgotten again that he didn't have Hermione to translate for him in the wizarding world.
"It's a muggle expression."
"Oh," she said, like that didn't clear much up but she was willing to drop it, which Harry was glad for-he was rather awful at explaining anything unrelated to defense against the dark arts.
"So Greengrass," he said, sliding his bowl towards the sink. "We've talked about the war, Voldemort, Slytherin, Gryffindor, the muggle world, I've been tickled more thoroughly than ever before-but I still know nothing about you, at least you have a basis on me."
"Oh the trials of being famous," she said feigning a dramatic sigh. "Well, what do you want to know." Harry had been afraid of that. He wracked his brain for a proper philosophical question-maybe something with the word "quintessence" in it, Hermione had used that once hadn't she?
But instead he blurted out, "What's your favorite color?" Astoria laughed and Harry blushed, but she seemed to deem the thought worthy of an answer.
"Blue," she said, "Powder blue, like the sky on a cloudless day." Harry was reminded of the dozens of such days spent lounging on the Hogwarts grounds by the lake with Ron and Hermione. One glance at Astoria and he could see she was thinking the same thing.
"Green." He said, shaking his head to clear the wistful thoughts.
"What?" She asked, copying the motion.
"My favorite color. Green, like my mother's eyes." She snorted.
"Bit narcissistic of you Potter." Harry thought he might laugh, but instead he stared down at his feet.
"There the only part of her I've got." There was another moment of silence, they seemed to be becoming quite frequent. He felt sure the Slytherin would laugh, but when he looked up her eyes shone with genuine remorse.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't know."
"It's alright," he said, and he realized he meant it. "But I do think we've pulled into a bit emotional a conversation for a first encounter." She laughed, though it sounded a little forced, and when she spoke again it sounded like she was sorry to let the topic drop.
"Fair enough. Alright then, question number two, what was your favorite class at hogwarts."
"Am I being interrogated?" Harry asked grinning and then quickly glancing into his water glass like it might be spiked with veritaserum. Greengrass didn't seem to notice. "Well I can definitivly tell you that potions was my least favorite class-" He winced at the thought and Astoria grinned peevishly.
"If it's any help, your suffering was really very funny." Harry screwed up his nose.
"Somehow that's not very comforting." She laughed again, genuinely this time and Harry couldn't help smiling. "I guess defense against the dark arts, especially in third year."
"Didn't you teach dark arts to a bunch of Gryffindors in fifth year? Draco and Blaise mentioned-" She turned red. "Sorry about that." Harry grinned.
"Yeah, though it wasn't exclusively Gryffindor, we had about every house but, erm, Slytherin," he looked up carefully but the blonde girl seemed unfazed. "It was a bit of a pain in the arse if you'll pardon my french, and I never actually knew what I was doing."
"Yeah, well, anyone who can teach Longbottom a patronus charm is fine by me, anyone is fine by me compared to Umbridge actually," she said, grimacing, a motion which Harry copied remembering the pink clad, toad like woman, but something about Astoria's words caught him.
"I thought the Slytherins were with Umbridge?"
"Oh god no. That was only Draco being a prick-you should've heard Blaise rant, worried he wasn't going to pass his owls."
"Zambini?" Harry asked finally placing the familiar name.
"Oh yeah, biggest know-it-all in the school except Granger maybe," she said nodding at him. It was funny to hear his friends referred to like some long established rivals, talked about the way he talked about-well Slytherins. "You know his boggart in third year was Snape telling him he'd failed all his exams?" Harry's eyes widened and he broke out laughing, Astoria smiled, looking a bit confused as he clutched his stomach and wheezed.
"Sorry," he said, once he'd managed to stop enough to talk. "It's just Hermione had to be escorted from the final because she burst out of the trunk yelling that McGonagall had told her she'd flunked everything." Astoria's jaw dropped, and then she grinned.
"That's just-wow."
"Wait," Harry said, thinking back to the Weasley's with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Who did Zambini get matched up with?"
"Hm," she said, taking a sip of water. "Oh, that Lovegood girl from Ravenclaw."
"Oh no," Harry said running his hands through his already terribly messy hair. "Oh he won't last a day."
"Why?" Astoria said looking confused. "She's a ravenclaw they'll be perfect."
"You've obviously never met Luna. She-well-she likes to think, er, a bit outside the box."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Astoria said, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
"She, it's erm, it's a bit difficult to-"
"Spit it out Potter."
"Luna doesn't like to listen to logic. She believes that anything is real as long as you don't have solid proof that it isn't and she tends to be-eccentric-about expressing it, it drives Hermione mad." Astoria, who'd been absentmindedly braiding her hair let her hands drop.
"And because Blaise and Granger think the same way,"
"He'll be in said mungo's by February," Harry confirmed, smiling apologetically. Greengrass poured herself a bit more water from the pitcher and took a sip.
"Well there isn't anything I can do about that," She said, glancing down at her wrist. "But I'm afraid I have to go." Harry looked down at his own watch and jumped, it was already past noon, and the Weasleys would be expecting him for lunch. Out of habit he grabbed the bowls and started to rinse them in the sink along with the pan and their glasses, hardly taking note when Astoria left to get something from the other room. By the time he was finished she was back sitting cross legged at the table with a leather bag over her shoulder.
"Well I guess I'll see you Potter, you can show yourself out." She stood to go but something in her sentence made Harry stop.
"If were going to be friends you might as well call me Harry."
"Who said anything about friends?" she asked, making an about face in the doorframe.
"I did," he said, grinning in a very James-Potter-ish way, and with that he walked to the opposite side of the kitchen, towards the door where they'd come in. "And most people say goodbye Astoria."
He could hear her laugh all the way from the parlor.
It kind of jumps right in, but likes, dislikes? What did you think of Astoria? What about Harry? Leave me a review below. Thanks for reading!
