Summary: Astoria is running out of options. Both her potential escorts cancelled at the last minute, and she cannot go to her cousin's wedding without a date. Well...there was always Draco Malfoy, but he was such an insufferable git, she'd have to put a Silencing Charm on him before she let him go anywhere with her...lighthearted DracoAstoria.

Disclaimer: As always and forever, I don't own them or claim to. Sadface.

Rating: K+...nothing too bad here.

Chapter 1: The Dilemma of Draco

Astoria Greengrass was stuck in something of a quandary.

Within the last few days she had had not one but two unpleasant experiences of being cancelled on, first by Gregor Stravinsky a week ago and then by Christopher Mumford two days later, and her cousin's wedding was tomorrow.

Astoria huffed, tapping her wand against her social events calendar so her full list of contacts sprang up just to the left of the frantically circled Jacob's wedding on Saturday, 1 May 2004.

A muttered incantation narrowed the list down to all candidates who fit the criteria of male and appropriately aged for dating, and narrowed her options down to exactly five.

Michael Beatty, no. She had lost contact with him more or less as soon as they had left Hogwarts and it would be awkward to up and ask him to a wedding now, even if he had been a sweet boy back then.

Allen Bartholomew was also a no. He had been in her year at Hogwarts, in Slytherin. She had heard, though she wasn't exactly sure if it was true, that he had gotten his girlfriend pregnant at the end of their seventh year and been forced by her father to marry her right after graduation. This obviously removed him from the list of possible candidates.

Gerald Aranda was not a choice for more reasons than she cared to name, including how he had attempted to grope her at the Yule Ball her fifth year, leered lasciviously at both her and Daphne the following year, made accompanying inappropriate remarks regarding the three of them whenever he happened to be around them. Daphne hadn't seemed to mind the attention, but then again Daphne, in Astoria's mind, was an air-headed nitwit who could do with a little more common sense and a little less...tendency to make herself accessible to boys. Astoria had always been irritated Gerald was placed in Ravenclaw, as she had prided herself on her own placement there and would rather have not associated with creeps like Gerald. Although, she supposed, every House must have them, as there was no Perverts and the Socially Idiotic classification at Hogwarts.

Donald Maldonado was a Hufflepuff. Astoria might not have the phenomenal level of arrogance typically possessed by a Slytherin, but she still had her pride and she didn't think she could stand to ask out someone who would probably trip over his own feet and knock the wedding cake over.

That left just one person on her list.

Astoria groaned internally.

She had not wanted it to come to this. Staring up at her, tauntingly, was the name Draco Malfoy, whose name Astoria had only extremely reluctantly put into her contacts list at all, and only at that so she could know whose communications to ignore.

She had known Draco through the ringleader of her sister's gang, Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin, who had long regaled her followers with tales of how gloriously beautiful she found Draco. These tales Daphne had seen fit to pass on to Astoria, who on politer days replied she couldn't care less and on ruder days snapped she didn't give a hippogriff's wrinkly rump. At any rate, Draco was no longer at all interested in Pansy, though Astoria had to wonder if he had ever been interested in her at all from the callous way Daphne had at times told Astoria he treated Pansy.

In fact, as luck or some other tricky entity would have it, Draco had now focused his attentions on none other than Astoria Greengrass herself. He had begun to notice her during his sixth year and her fifth, during which he had acted fairly subdued, for reasons Astoria found out later. They had formed a tentative friendship, she trying to display kindness to him, sensing he was under some kind of pressure of which she was uninformed. But that was the year all hell had broken loose and Draco abruptly left Hogwarts and Astoria, while she regretted it, had been too focused on her studies to really feel any kind of impact. The year after that Draco had returned to Hogwarts, but was cold and distant, refusing all company, and she had hardly seen him at all. Now, however, after the end of the war, Astoria had noticed a definite shift in his priorities, the list of which she seemed to top. He had been subtle at first, sending her a bouquet of pink roses after she'd been required to spend a night in St. Mungo's due to a Boiling Charm gone wrong, but had quickly dropped all pretenses after that and begun sending her letters, flowers, food and anything else he could think of in an attempt, it seemed, to regain her favor.

Astoria felt pleased by his attentions as any young woman would, but being a Ravenclaw, had entirely too much common sense to really be flattered or wooed by his attempts to win her heart. She had accepted the first few gifts he had sent, but was forced to put her foot down when he sent her a (beautiful) sapphire and diamond necklace. She had sent it back with her regrets, but firmly though gently told him she was not interested. That didn't seem to work, however, and though he sulked for awhile he eventually began again even more ruthlessly than before.

Weren't they at least friends? He would wheedle, and she had to admit they were. Though they had not kept company with each other much since sixth year, now they were the Junior Spokes Witch and Wizard for the English Division of International Relations at the Ministry, and thus she was required to spend many hours of the week with him. Annoying as he generally was to be with and determined to dislike him as she was, Astoria had to admit he wasn't wholly unbearable - though she would rather have swallowed acid than admit it.

The good part of this was that Astoria knew Draco would jump at the opportunity to accompany her to her cousin's wedding, so she was guaranteed not to go alone if she asked him. The bad part, besides of course giving Draco exactly what he wanted, was that Draco was more or less an insufferable git. He might have lost some of his pride after the war, but there were some things that really couldn't be driven out of a man no matter what his circumstances, and in the Malfoy family, this was a man's sense of self-worth. What was more, somehow Draco seemed to have gained an immovable ability to talk about anything and everything while they worked together at the Ministry, stuck together in a tiny room doing menial paperwork for hours. Or rather, Astoria did the paperwork while Draco drove her up the wall with his constant talking: about Quidditch, about what he had for supper the night before, about the warlock uprising in Romania, about the stupid albino peacocks walking around his stupid Manor. He also liked to keep up a constant stream of discontentment, ranging from the poor quality of the weather, to his dislike of the color of the walls to the irritating way Helena Marcham in Administration had several hairs sticking straight out of her stupid-looking bun on the back of her head.

Astoria sighed and ran a hand through her dark, thick hair. If she invited Draco to be her date for the wedding, not only would she have to put up with his constant stream of speech but also his attempts to woo her, which would undoubtedly be renewed in full force by this slight encouragement. Still, she absolutely could not go unescorted to Jacob's wedding, especially given that Eddie MacFarland would be there and undoubtedly have a date and there was no way Astoria could let her tosser of an ex-boyfriend show her up at her own cousin's wedding.

But why did it have to come to this? Despite her lack of a flirtatious personality like her sister, Astoria had never had trouble receiving male attention. Draco had even flat-out told her that she was more attractive than her sister and should she ever need a man for any reason she could just bat her eyes and that would work perfectly well to get whatever she wanted. Astoria, of course, thought that Draco was extremely biased, given his infatuation of her, but he had said it with that look in his eyes that meant he was just being blunt without care for tact, and the flat tone of his voice added to her conviction that he was telling the truth.

Still, Astoria didn't want to go with just anyone; he could turn out to be a total prat, or more perverted than Gerald Aranda (though she didn't know whether that was even possible) or clumsier than a Hufflepuff. She knew that at least Draco wouldn't insult her or try to put strange things in her drink or trip over his own feet, and if she was forced to be in photos at least Draco would look attractive enough in them. The problem was, could Draco keep his mouth shut? If he saw anyone he didn't like or, heaven forbid, took a dislike to the bride's gown or Jacob's dress robes, she really was not at all certain he could be trusted not to let everyone within hearing distance know just how he felt about the matter. Despite whatever charms he tried to use on her, he could be quite the ornery little loudmouth when the mood took him - and it seemed to rather frequently. If only she could just keep a Silencing Charm on his mouth, so he could stand still and look pretty for the pictures, so she wouldn't have to show up alone, then they could just watch politely and eat their cake and leave without a fuss.

Briefly she entertained the idea of faking illness and declining the invitation altogether, but it was only a day in advance and that was terrible manners - and what was more, this was her darling cousin Jacob's wedding. He had been her best friend since childhood, the one person who would listen to her endless complaints about all the empty space in her sister's head, the one who chuckled and tried to hide his amusement at her descriptions of her sister as a mindless toy poodle. Jacob was the older brother Astoria never had, sending carefully worded letters to would-be admirers, cheerfully threatening to exchange a broken bone for Astoria's broken heart, bringing Astoria sweets when she was a child, and writing back to her immediately at the slightest sign she was lonely. No, ditching her cousin's wedding would hurt his feelings terribly even if he didn't think it was her fault; nonattendance was not an option.

Resignedly, she sighed, and stepped over the fireplace.

"Malfoy Manor," she called into it, pointing her wand into it, and immediately a rush of purple flame engulfed the log prongs, through which a woman's voice sounded a few seconds later.

"Narcissa Malfoy," identified the rather cold voice of the woman and Astoria suddenly felt a tiny fluttering of anxiety in her stomach.

"Astoria Greengrass for Draco Malfoy, Mrs. - um - Mrs. Malfoy," she said, cursing her awkwardness. For Merlin's sake she was the Junior Spokeswitch on behalf of the English Division of International Relations, she had spoken to countless foreign diplomats and ambassadors properly, why couldn't she compose a single sentence to speak to Draco's mother?

"Please hold, Miss Greegrass," said Narcissa Malfoy, and a swishing on the other end indicated her robes swept the floor as was seeking her son. There was no response for several moments, during which Astoria fiddled with the end of wand nervously, rather wondering if she should pull it out of the fire and try again for fear they had been disconnected. Just as she was about to give up, there was a pop and Draco Malfoy's smug, pale face appeared in her fireplace - though it would have been tell what color his skin was, given the purple appearance the flames gave to everyone who communicated that way.

He was panting slightly hard and his hair seemed to be wet but hastily slicked back. She raised her eyebrows at his appearance.

"You dragged me out of the bath," he said accusingly, though it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone of his voice that she had called.

"Did I?" she said coolly. "Well, don't let me keep you from it. You could have at least had one of your elves tell me so I needn't have stood here for the last -"

"It's no matter," he said quickly. A purple hand appeared as he nervously smoothed back his hair, and Astoria realized with a tiny jolt of pleasure that he must have hastily attempted to make himself look presentable for her. For anyone else, she thought, self-centered Draco Malfoy would have told the house elf to tell the caller to call him back another time, because he was busy and of course the world revolved around his schedule, but he had, it seemed, pulled himself from bathing and attempted quickly to look good for her. It was a little bit adorable, even if she didn't like him at all.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Spokeswitch Greengrass?" he inquired with a tad more glee than she really thought necessary.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, drop it, Malfoy."

"As you wish, Your Royal Highness," he said mockingly. Astoria frowned irritably into the fire; she knew this had been a terrible idea from the get-go.

"Forget it, Malfoy," she said furiously. "If you're going to be that much of an obstinate pig about things then I won't even ask-"

"Ask what?" he said eagerly, suddenly dropping all pretenses. "Ask what, Astoria? I'm s- er, well, I didn't mean to make fun of you."

It was the closest to "I'm sorry" that she was going to get out of him, she knew that.

"I just wondered," she said, trying to sound casual. She could practically see his whole body leaning forward with anticipation. "If you wanted...well, it's my cousin's wedding tomorrow, you see...you're probably already busy, but I just wanted to ask..."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" his eyes shot wide open with glee and she could feel the beginnings of a brag in the conversation...

"Only one, and only because I'm des-too busy to find a proper date," she quickly corrected herself. She had been about to say 'desperate', which obviously would have made him impossibly smug.

"Astoria Greengrass, Untouchable, is asking me out on a date!" Draco crowed with such self-congratulations it made Astoria instantly regret asking him as a sudden desire to incendio that stupid little smirk off his face came over her. She wondered whether it was at least possible to Obliviate someone over fire communication so he could forget all about her asking him out - and maybe make him forget all about his infatuation with her, while she was at it.

"So was it my charm, good looks or vast fortune that prompted you to ask?" he grinned impishly and infuriatingly at her.

"Well, as I have my own wealth, it certainly wasn't your 'fortune', Malfoy," Astoria said coldly, realizing her mistake a split second too late.

"So it must be my charm or devastating good looks - or a combination of the two perhaps!" he gloated.

"I told you, I've been so busy doing my work and yours too at the Ministry I haven't had time to think of a proper date!" she snapped at him angrily. No way was she telling him both her other potential escorts had bowed out on her. "You can just thank your lucky stars you're slightly less creepy than Gerald Aranda-"

Draco made a sound of disgust. "That nasty little toerag? Greengrass, don't tell me you were so desperate you were going to ask Gerald Aranda..."

She flushed, scowling.

"He definitely hasn't got my charm, or fit Quidditch body, or-"

She sensed a long Why Draco is the Best at Everything rant oncoming, and nipped that little problem in the bud straightaway.

"You can just forget about it, if that's how you're going to be," she informed him icily and immediately, he fell silent.

"Er...right. Only kidding!" (Astoria was sure he wasn't) "So-" hastily trying to regain what little favor he had acquired in the first place- "-tomorrow, eh?"

"Yes, at three o'clock," she said, her irritation with him lessening slightly. "But we'll need to meet up at one-"

"Merlin's Beard, no," he immediately said crossly, and Astoria wondered what could have caused this drastic change of mood..."I'll pick you up, of course, don't tell me tradition means nothing to you!"

Her silence indicated tradition was indeed meaningful to her and she did not oppose his suggested course of action.

"I'll pick you up at one, if you can be ready by then-"

Astoria felt annoyed, she was the one who had suggested a one o'clock meeting time, of course she would expect herself to be ready by then.

"And we'll eat before we go. Weddings are such dreadfully boring affairs and undoubtedly they won't serve supper until half the guests have already perished of starvation."

Astoria felt cross that he was suddenly taking over all her plans and just assuming her cousin would be so thoughtless as to let his guests perish before they were fed, but Draco's monologue changed to a question that brought her back into the conversation.

"What are you wearing?" he demanded suddenly.

"I-er-" in truth, she hadn't really thought about it yet. Despite the fact she'd only told Draco she was too busy to find a 'real' date to irritate him, she really had been busy and had been far more focused on who she was bringing rather than what she would be wearing. She had plenty of beautiful things, of course, given that her father had never denied either of his girls whatever they wanted, and weddings were always formal occasions so she supposed she would go with a set of midnight blue robes offset with silver, and silver jewelry and hair accessories. She had a beautiful bottle green dress as well that she had rather been wanting to wear for awhile now, but since blue was Ravenclaw's color, and green Slytherin's, it would probably please Draco only too much for her to be dressed in his preferred color. Therefore, blue was obviously the better choice and she was sticking with it.

"But why do you need to know?" she asked suspiciously before tellimg him.

"We need to match, of course," Draco replied impatiently, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. Astoria couldn't help but smile at that, and refrained from teasing him about the excellent extent to which his mother (and father, probably) had obviously trained him when it came to making public appearances. Or about the personality type it reminded her of when he was so particular about how he looked.

"You'll do well with dark blue and silver cuff links," she told him. He sniffed but made no other comment, seeming neither to approve nor disapprove. She was even more pleased she had chosen blue, since apparently they would match, and Draco would be forced to wear the primary color of her House, not his. Even though they had both been out of Hogwarts awhile now, to some extent old House rivalries never died.

"I'll pick you up at one, then," he said, sounding pleased with himself. Almost as pleased, she imagined, as the great puff-chested peacocks wandering around Malfoy Manor. The thought of blond-haired Draco as a white-feathered peacock somehow made her overcome with giggles for some reason, and with a hasty farewell she cut communication, so he could never know how much he sometimes made her laugh.

Astoria stared with a combination of awe and horror at the great big thing standing in front of her large London flat. She supposed she could call it a vehicle of some sort. It looked a little like the Knight Bus in that it had multiple levels, but the sleek design and colouring would surely be offended by the comparison. It looked like Muggle limosines she had seen passing by Six Deerwood Court but had two levels. The colour matched the shade of her robes exactly, and the edges of the windows were subtly tinted with what looked to be real silver. She had stepped outside at exactly one o'clock in the afternoon and found, to her irritation, that Draco was late. She turned to lock her door, and when she had turned around again she found to her astonishment this magnificent car-bus-like thing standing silently in the street, as though it had been there the entire time. Draco, looking as polished and dignified as his father ever had, stood waiting for her at the door, which she was alarmed to note stood as tall as he was.

"Draco," she said faintly as she walked up to it, jaw hanging slightly open. "What exactly is this?"

"This?" he glanced at it over his shoulder as though it would have been otherwise impossible for him to comprehend what she was talking about. The enormous vehicle towered above them and seemed like it should have been bulky and monstrous - but somehow, whether by magic or just an excellent designer, it seemed graceful and elegant instead.

"Why, darling, it's our ride to the wedding," Draco beamed at her, obviously pleased with himself. He opened the door for her but she wouldn't budge. She was so shocked she didn't even refute his pet name, irritating as she found it.

"Draco," Astoria hissed rather venomously, regaining herself somewhat and refusing to take his arm. "We can't take this to the wedding, we'll upstage the bride!"

This did not seem to bother the young Malfoy heir much at all.

"That's her fault for poor planning," he said indifferently. He held out his arm and raised his eyebrows. "Besides, if you don't get in, we'll be late," he pointed out.

Astoria was determined not to put off the quality of her skin by frowning at him. Instead, she just refused his arm and stalked quite determinedly up the stairs (the stairs!) into the vehicle, where she immediately became slack-jawed once again.

"Draco Malfoy," she said in outrage, turning to him, for instead of regular seats and a bar the interior contained what looked to be an entire dining room, complete with crystal chandeliers, fine wooden panelling on the sides, and of all things a pianist sitting there playing what he seemed somehow to know were her favorite classical tunes. A table furnished fully for two sat in the center.

"Drive," Draco ordered quickly, shutting the door before she could change her mind, a decision which she looked quite on the verge of making. She turned to him in fury and he was smirking, arms folded lazily across his chest, head cocked to the side.

She wanted to slap him! This was supposed to be her date, she had done the asking, and here he was, taking the whole thing over! Seeing the look of plain fury on her face Draco glided forward smoothly and took advantage of her inability to speak by taking her arm and leading her to sit at the table.

"I thought we were going out to eat," she said finally, cursing herself for an apparent inability to articulate any more smoothly than this.

Draco frowned. "What does this look like to you?"

As if on cue a black and white clad waiter glided up to them. Astoria wanted to laugh; he could not be a more stereotypical server with the linen draped over his arm, receding hairline and odd little mustache.

"My name is Pierre, madam, today we are serving glazed steak medallions with grilled asparagus, shittake mushrooms and roast potatoes...will that be quite to your liking?"

"Yes," Astoria said faintly. It was her favorite, how did...? She glanced over to Draco across from her, who was smirking but had a sweet hopeful look in his eyes too that she was quite sure she had never seen before.

Pierre took their drink orders and disappeared into a back room. From what she could gather, this moving building seemed to have the main dining room, a kitchen, a lavatory and an upper deck. Merlin only knew how much this all had to cost...although that had probably been Draco's aim, of course.

"Draco," she said quietly. "How did you do all this?"

He had had only one day to prepare it all; after all, she had called him in the middle of the afternoon yesterday and it wasn't even half one in the afternoon today.

Draco leaned forward, looking more hopeful than he probably meant to.

"Do you like it?" he asked. The smirk was firmly in place but something gentler tugged on the corners of his lips as he asked.

"Well, I-"

"Do you?"

"I have to say it's not quite what I-"

"Astoria." His tone was serious and bordered on annoyed. "Just answer the question."

She bit her lip. "Yes," she admitted. How could she not be impressed? The pianist was performing Rachmaninoff, her favorite Muggle composer, because his music sounded so deeply intelligent. It either said something positive about Draco's character that he was allowing Muggle-written music to be played in his presence (not only that but was paying for it!) or of his education, since the only other option was that he did not know it had been written by a Muggle. Astoria didn't know which was true, but either way, he had somehow remembered her mention her love for the Russian's piano works when even she could not clearly remember quite when she had told it to him, and that alone was something.

"Yes," she repeated softly. "It's very nice."

Draco leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chair. "Then it doesn't matter," he said matter-of-factly, in reference to just how he had accomplished the whole thing.

She narrowed her eyes at him as her momentarily lapse of emotional control disappeared, replaced by some measure of misgiving.

"I certainly hope you didn't do anything illegal to obtain any of this," she said suspiciously.

"Well, you know me, darling," Draco drawled, flashing her the smile that had made dozens of Slytherin girls fall over themselves with a sudden case of swooning.

"Don't call me that," she said automatically, with such strong disapproval he lost the grin and scowled instead.

"All right, well, I didn't kill anyone to make it happen," he said defensively, glaring at her. "Is that good enough for you, Greengrass?"

She couldn't help but giggle a little at how he said her name. She always rather felt her surname reminded her of a cow, who wanted to eat green grass, or of a discontented man, who wanted greener grass on the other side of the fence. When Draco said it somehow an image rose to her mind of Draco as a cow eating grass, or of a farmer-Draco with a huge floppy white hat sitting perched on a fence complaining very loudly about the state of his fields.

The cool glare he had on his face now was the other look that Slytherin girls so often lusted after - the sexy, brooding stare was beyond riveting, apparently, though Astoria found it difficult to take him seriously when he took a thing so simple as dinner with such utter lack of humor.

"Don't worry, Draco, I was only joking," she said gently, and immediately the coldness in his eyes softened.

Presently Pierre returned with their wine and appetizers. With Astoria's gentle smile of approval at Draco's efforts, the blonde's smug demeanor had returned. He pushed back in his chair, looking down his nose, scrutinizing the food and drink placed before them. It seemed to his liking, or at least well enough that he did not complain about it. Astoria had to hold back a roll of her eyes; when Draco was with her at the office, he seemed so...uninhibited. So unlike a Malfoy. Of course, he still had his arrogance, and his prejudices, but they were far toned down compared to what he was like around senior members of the Ministry or, say, his father. Whatever snide aristocratic fussiness he was displaying now was more out of habit than that he really, truly cared about the quality. Of course, had it been poor, he would certainly have had it sent back, but he was not being so finicky to the point of sending something back just for the show of it as she had witnessed him do at Ministry functions before. That sort of pride was something Astoria herself did not possess; yes, she liked her things fine and expensive, no she would not ask a Hufflepuff out on a date and yes she expected things and services to be of high quality for her, but she had never been one to send something back and demand a replacement just because she could. It irked her that Draco would do so and it was one of the things she really disliked about him. The way he was gazing at her now, smirking openly, clearly thinking he had won, was another one of those things, and she was going to have to set him straight at the nearest opportunity. This had been her date after all, and he had just gone and made it all his own, clearly on purpose. This attempted usurpation of power was something she would not stand for.

"Draco," she said softly, silkily, the danger in her voice so subtle even the keenest might have missed it. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers, eyebrows raised cockily.

"What is it, Astoria?"

"You realize, Draco, this is only the beginning? You haven't won."

He looked politely confused. "Won? I'm sure I don't know what you're going on about, my dear."

"Don't call me that," she said. She steeled her eyes to meet his; sometimes, that flicker of cunning and clever really convince him she should have been in Slytherin instead... "You know perfectly well what I'm - ah - 'going on about'."

Draco's eyes narrowed; this was a game to his liking. "Very well, then. I propose a bet."

"Go on," she said coolly. If Draco Malfoy thought he could beat her at a game of wits, he had quite another thing coming at him.

"A contest , this entire night. If you win...I'll do the paperwork for the senior ambassadors, all of it, for an entire month. If I win..." a tiny grin caught his lips, a very wicked gleam appeared in his eyes. "You have to go on a date with me."

"This isn't a date? What on earth is it, then?" she asked, nonplussed, indicating to all the finery around him and trying to remind him that all this finery was in fact in the back of what more or less counted as a bus.

"A real date," he said dismissively, and Astoria felt a tremour of apprehension in her stomach at what else he could possibly conjure up.

She clenched her jaw. It didn't really matter anyway, because there was no way Draco was going to win. Hell would freeze over first. Daphne would stop being such an air-headed bimbo. Voldemort would rise from the grave and reclaim power...well, she had better not push her luck with that one, stranger things had happened. At any rate, there was no way Astoria would lose. She had always thought she might have been friends with Hermione Granger had they been in the same House and had Granger not been typically occupied with saving Harry Potter's rear end in some sticky situation, given both their sensible heads and knack for bookwork and cleverness. She wasn't, though, but now she thought of Granger, she remembered the Gryffindor girl had been invited to the wedding. Jacob had shown her the guest list a month or so ago, and Astoria seemed to recall Granger on the list...as well as one other name she now found interesting...

Which gave Astoria her most excellent idea. If Draco could recover from that, it would be a miracle indeed.

She rose from her seat, smiling sweetly at Draco, and excused herself to the lavatory.

Once there, she removed her wand from the inside pocket of her robes and performed a charm on the mirror that turned it into a two-way portal for communication.

The round, flustered face of a witch around her age appeared in the glass, a sight that would have startled most Muggles but which to Astoria seemed perfectly normal.

"Astoria," hissed the other girl. "What do you want? I have a thousand things to do, the wedding's an hour away-"

"This will only take a moment, Vicky," Astoria said coolly. She quietly reminded Vicky of the sticky situation with David Leonardo Astoria had fixed for her, and Vicky became subdued at once, though she scowled heartily.

"I just need to change the seating charts," Astoria said, raising an eyebrow as Vicky squawked. "Don't look like that - it isn't hard. I just need you to put me and my...er, date...at a different table than you have us right now. I think Jacob put us with Alexis Bixby and Martin Sanders. I need you to change that."

"But we can't, it's so close," said Vicky breathlessly.

"Surely you can," Astoria said. "Just switch a few certain guests to my table and move the formers to the new guests' old position. Really, Vicky, I know you're more competent than that?"

She left the last bit off as a question, to make Vicky question her own competence and thus be more helpful in Astoria's quest.

"Very well," Vicky said reluctantly, looking over her shoulder nervously. She took out her seating charts and tapped them with her wand. "Who do you need moved to your table?"

Astoria smiled evilly. "Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, if you please, Vicky...and their dates."

Sitting at a cramped table for four hours with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley was bound to put Draco in excellent spirits, Astoria thought cheerfully as she pretended to flush the toilet and made her way out of the lavatory with a sweet smile at the poor fool who didn't know what was about to hit him.

Reviews are always nice. 8)