(And I'd give up forever to touch you,
'cause I know that you feel me somehow)

Astoria grimaces, stepping into the toilet of the faux ladies' loo. Honestly, she thinks, pulling the lever—she gets sucked in, spun and jerked this way and that, before stumbling straight down into a fireplace, effectively shooting pain up from her feet—they should try to think of something a bit more clean to get into the Ministry.

She shakes her head and walks out, falling into the throng of workers, and then eventually makes her way past the fountain and into an elevator. She pushes the button to the seventh floor, vintage briefcase (decorated in black fabric, littered with minuscule white roses)—a gift from her grandmother after Auror training—in hand, quickly grabbing the handle above her as the small space instantaneously jerks backward, her body swinging, and then speedily rising up. Astoria grunts, the elevator sashaying as it hits the ceiling, and puts a hand on the wall, steadying herself before walking out.

"Seriously," she mutters, walking into the Aurors floor. Wizards and witches bustle about, doors along the walls containing offices or file rooms and more, "This place's methods of getting around are horrid."

She sighs and rolls her shoulders, nodding at those who greet her as she makes her way down to her small office. She inserts the key and pushes the door open, finding her roommate snoozing on his exceedingly messy and unorganized desk.

"Neville!" she yells, striding over and smacking him up the head; the Longbottom snaps up, snorting, and hastily looks around, calming as he catches Astoria.

"Oh—oh," he says, and hurries to grab some paperwork. The brunette woman glares, crossing her arms as he clears his throat and grabs a pencil, muttering as he writes—"Mission complete!" With an exaggerated sign of his name, Neville smiles, looking up, fear in his eyes, and nods, "Astoria."

She rolls her eyes and grins, turning around, walking to her own desk. She sits down in her chair, setting her briefcase on the ground beside her, and looks at Neville, who smiles nervously.

"I'm not going to kill you," she assures, her officemate sags in relief.

"Sorry," he starts, darting his eyes to anywhere but his partner, "I—um—had a rough night…"

Astoria frowns worriedly, cocking her head, hands holding the edge of her desk as she offhandedly rolls back and forth in her chair, "Are you okay? Did something bad happen?"

"Um—" Neville blushes, his face red, and mutters, "Not—not exactly…" his hand covers his neck, but Astoria's mouth drops, having already seen the damage. She excitedly jumps from her chair, said piece of furniture rolling back as she dashes to her friend's desk.

"That's a hickey!" She yells, and Neville glares, moving away from her. She leans forward, scrambles, flat on his desk, and somehow rips his hand away from his neck, revealing a large, dark bruise under his ear. "You and Luna got it on! You shagged!"

There's a beat of silence. She watches Neville's Adam Apple as he swallows, blush multiplying tenfold as he looks away, down to the floor. "We—we didn't shag. It—it was more than that…"

Astoria smiles, softening, and steps back. Neville looks at her incredulously. "What?" he asks, brow furrowed, and her smiles widens.

"You love her," she states promptly, and Neville's blush fades. He stares thoughtfully at the top of his desk, which is filled with paper work and reports and new assignments.

"Yeah," he whispers, looking up at Astoria, "I do."

"Um," Astoria prods, wondering if she's getting too personal, but they went through training together, and they're partners now, right?—"was it, uh, your first time?"

Neville nods; the brunette is happy to see him unfazed, "Both of ours."

"Awesome. Um—how—how was it?" She asks, unable to stop herself, hands gripping the sides of her slacks, a virgin herself—though, if she told anyone they probably wouldn't believe her. Astoria doesn't know if she should be proud or not.

"Amazing," Neville answers, with a content and happy grin.

And even though Astoria is happy for him, she wishes she had someone like that, too. She gives Neville a bittersweet smile, and he pouts, mouth opening just as someone walks in.

"Hey, guys," it's Harry, and both of them turn, finding the obviously future Head of the Department striding into the room with papers in his hand, their "moment" or what have you dissolving. Neville groans and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. Astoria smirks as Harry rolls his eyes, "This is mine," the Potter promises, and Neville mutters a relieved "Yes."

Astoria turns, hands peeling themselves off of her pants, "What's up, Harry?"

"The Head wants you to go check out some bad parts of Diagon Alley."

"Okay," Astoria answers, nodding, and moves to her desk to grab her cardigan from the back of her chair. She slips it on, and grabs her wand (nine inches, oak, with dragon heartstring), the wood feeling natural in her left hand. "'Course."

Harry nods, giving her a quick grin, "Thanks, Astoria," and he walks out. Astoria's eyes widen, and she quickly chases after him, leaning out the doorway and calling out into the hallway for the whole department to hear, a hand cupped around her mouth.

"Harry! Guess what? Neville and Luna had sex!"

The Potter stills, looking over his shoulder and glaring. "Oh!" Astoria calls, "I'm sorry! I forgot you're in professional-mode! But isn't that awesome? They're really getting serious!"

"That's great!" Harry replies from down the hallway, and Astoria grins wolfishly, knowing he said that partly to just shut her up. She gets shoved out of the office and turns around, finding Neville glaring at her intensely, a hand on the doorknob.

"Go," he says coldly, and slams the door in her face. The former Slytherin sticks her tongue out at the oak door, and then turns happily on her heel, skipping off into an elevator.

Astoria shivers, pulling her brown and white sweater tighter around herself, rubbing her hands against her biceps. Her breath comes out in visible puffs, and she scowls at herself, questioning why she decided to not wear anything heavier. Snow crunches beneath her boots as she walks down the dingy, dark alleyway, and to spare herself from hypothermia, Astoria quickly spots a bar to her right and hurries in, shoulders sagging at the warmth.

There's a scrape of wood and Astoria look up from her shoes, scanning the interior of the pub. The floors are rich brown panels, walls blue painted wood, and two shaky windows rattle from the wind to Astoria's left and right. Soft candles light the room, and the brunette's eyes catch the people occupying the tables: an old woman eating something that looks like barf, garbed in a thin cloak; a woman and seemingly a son, both of them drinking something warm; and a man… in the darkest corner of the bar, hunched over, his back turned towards her. Astoria's stomach jumps for reasons she can't articulate, and she walks towards the bartender (a slightly hefty woman), sliding onto a stool.

Astoria ducks her head, surprisingly shy around people she doesn't know for being so loud around the people she does. She asks for a hot chocolate and gets one, handing the bartender a few Knuts. She stares into the drink as it cools, steam warming her face. Astoria thinks of how she hasn't even always been this loud around people she knows. She was so quiet as a kid, and at Hogwarts. She wonders if it had anything to do with her father's alcoholism, and reasons it obviously does. She also thinks about how she got so happy in the first place, and wonders that it's possibly the Auror training, becoming an Auror being around so many amazing people; having her dueling and general wizarding skills sharpened and honed, having people to fall back on that's boosted her confidence. She never had anyone as a kid. Her mother was in a crippling depression and her sister was just downright mean, and since Astoria was so shy and reclusive back then it wasn't as if she had many—or any—friends.

She sips her hot chocolate, the liquid cool enough to not scald her tongue yet warm enough to heat her throat. She glances at the man in the corner, now horizontal with her, and sets her mug done, licking her lips, continuing to look at him. She worries for his wellbeing, noticing the pale skin and thin arms—he isn't even wearing anything other than a very thin long-sleeve shirt and jeans, for Merlin's sake; she can't get a good view of his face, though. It seems that he's shifted to the side since she sat down at the bar. A hand nudges Astoria's elbow, and she turns, finding the bartender give her a warning look.

"Don't mess with him, girlie. He's a Malfoy; he's a wreck. He comes here every day too," the woman gestures to him, voice barely above a whisper, but judging by the man's wince, Astoria guesses he can hear, "and just orders a coffee and sits. I'm surprised he hasn't even died yet, from what he wears in this weather. Winter came early, and has been awful."

Astoria nods offhandedly, eyes glued to the man, which she now knows is Draco Malfoy. She remembers being so envious of him, of his confidence and demeanor. She was a year below him. She remembers often fretting over him in secret in her fifth year, when he was in sixth. Her roommates (and most of the other female part of her house) always jibed at her, made fun of her, Pansy Parkinson especially. Astoria was infatuated, and she wanted to know more about him. But he was out of school and a Death Eater by the time she'd collected enough courage to actually act on it. She wonders if she's still got that courage—but she's an Auror now, she's changed, hasn't she?

"He looks sad," she whispers, more to herself than anything, and the bartender grunts halfheartedly. Astoria stands, stool scraping, and walks over, mug with her, slipping into the chair across from the Malfoy. The blonde looks up through his eyelashes, and Astoria swallows a gasp. His eyes are bloodshot, lifeless, with heavy purple bags under him. Brown and blue bruises cover his face as if paint on a canvas, and his lip is cut. She sets her cup on the table and notices his coffee is untouched.

"Hello," Astoria murmurs tentatively. He doesn't answer. She doesn't talk, and leaves two hours later. Two hours spent in silence. Astoria smirks and Disapparates to her apartment, feeling rather adventurous even if the only word she'd said to Draco was a hello. Her shift ends in only nine hours; she'll be fine.

She goes to the pub the next day, and the next, and the next, and so forth. Her times there are always spent in tedious silence.

After a long lecture from the Head in his office (for skipping her shift by visiting Draco again) and a promise of work this weekend which she previously had off, Astoria giddily walks, nearly skipping to her shared office. It's eight am, and with four and a half hours to go until her lunch time, the morning seems to drag on forever, completely uneventful. No reports, nothing, and Astoria starts thinking about Christmas, which is a month away. She leans back in her chair and sets her feet on her desk, eyes up at the ceiling. Through her peripheral vision, she notices Neville gaze at her questioningly, but shrugs it off.

Without expectations for her sister, Astoria thinks of her mother, Rachel Greengrass. She thinks about her living in that old people's home or what have you run by Muggles in London, and decides it'd be best if she were to visit, maybe bring a little present like daffodils. Her mother always liked daffodils; but she probably doesn't remember that. After her father died, her mother drank her way into oblivion—surprising, since her mother was always so…soft, you could say; ironic as well, as it was the same thing that her father had fallen for—and due to severe alcohol poisoning she got Alzheimer's at the crisp age of thirty-seven, just as Astoria was going into her first year. Ever since then, Astoria had been living with her grandmother until she moved out four years ago, just as she left Hogwarts and entered Auror training. Maybe she should visit her grandmother then, just leave her mother to whittle away—she only remembers sweet Daphne, anyhow. Why should Astoria fret over a mother who's dying and doesn't even know her youngest kid's name? But, Astoria thinks, she isn't that kind of person, and reminds herself to leave a mental note to grab some daffodils sometime before Christmas.

Astoria groans, snapping herself out of her thoughts, and spins around in her chair. Neville nods in agreement, and sighs, holding up a set of Self Shuffling Cards.

"Wanna play Exploding Snap?"

With now only six cards set out face down between the two of them and having agreed on playing the Patience version (settled on the floor between their desks), Neville throws Astoria a Chocolate Frog. She quickly eats, not wanting the chocolate to melt messily while playing, and swallows, flipping over a card, which shows Albus Dumbledore. Astoria narrows her eyes, carefully speculating her cards and quickly grabs one to the right before they all shuffle. She drops it, and the pair of cards featuring the former Headmaster explodes, and Astoria grabs the notebook beside her, putting another tally under her name, while Neville only has one.

"Another point!" she cheers, and then coughs from the small supply of smoke. Neville waves it away, grumbling to himself. Astoria gasps, her watch emitting church bell-esque chimes.

She scrambles up, stumbling, and hurriedly pulls on her pea coat. Neville stands, eyebrows furrowed. "Astoria? What're you—"

"Lunch break," she says hastily, slipping her wand up her sleeve; and before Neville can ask more questions, she's out the door and sprinting down the hallway.

Astoria doesn't exactly know why she's doing this, but she's running down the same street as always, walking into the same pub, much to the bartender's surprise. Astoria pants, sitting on the stool she continuingly occupies, and wastes no time ordering another hot chocolate—lunch only lasts for an hour. She gives the woman money, and then slowly looks to her right, heart seeming to flip as she sees Draco there again. She rises and walks over, setting the mug down and seating herself across from the Malfoy.

Her heart hammers as he looks up; his grey eyes dull, but still so, so pretty, the first interaction he's showed her. She swallows, palms beginning to sweat, and notices he's even more injured than yesterday. Lips slightly parted, times seem to slow as her hand reaches out on its own accord, finger tips grazing Draco's temple. His hand catches her wrist in a steely grip, and Astoria stares at him as his eyes bore into her.

"You need to leave," he says, voice raspy and scratchy. She shakes her head no, and his lips purse. "Why are you here," he asks, and Astoria shrugs.

"I'm an old classmate—"

"Astoria Greengrass," he says, and Astoria nods, surprised.

"How did you—"

"In sixth year," he starts, breathing heavily, and Astoria wonders if talking this much is using a lot of effort on his part, causing a pang of guilt, "you were the one that took me to the hospital wing when I collapsed in the hallway."

"I… Yes," Astoria confirms, wrist still in his hand. It feels nice, she thinks.

"St—Stay away from—"

"You're bleeding," Astoria says softly, eyes staring the red soaking through various parts of Draco's thin sweater (today its blue). He scowls, dropping her wrist, and her hand thuds against the wood tabletop. Draco glares, and Astoria knows he is because he's unable to talk, maybe even unable to breath.

"Let me help you," she says, and before he can refuse she's standing, his thin arm in her tight grip, both of them vanishing the bar with a pop.

Astoria gasps as Draco falls onto her side, unconscious, and she points her wand at her flat's doorknob, muttering "Alohomora," and quickly lugging him inside. She maneuvers down the small hallway and into the living room, dropping him on to the couch with a grunt.

Wasting no time, and figuring Draco should probably be at St. Mungo's, Astoria struggles his shirt off, gasping at the deep gashes along his torso. She swallows, muttering charms to slow the bleeding, and dashes to the bathroom, scouring for something, a flask of Essence of Dittany (even though the medicine is extremely rare), anything. She hears Draco mosn and pokes her head out from the kitchen, finding him twitching uncontrollably on the couch, still out of it. She sprints over, and tries using various spells from Auror training, none of which heal the wounds completely.

"Dammit!"

Astoria groans and grips Draco's arm, Disapparating them both to St. Mungo's.

"Help!" She screams, holding the Malfoy close to her as she stumbles into the main floor of the wizarding hospital. There are bouts of pain in her leg, and in her hurry she thinks she splinched herself, but is too worried to care. "Help!" she yells again, and Healers in bright green robes come over, asking what happened as someone conjures a stretcher. Astoria pants and sweat thickly covers her hairline as she watches Draco being rolled away, and tries to chase after him, though another Healer holds her back.

"I—I think he used Sectumsempra on himself—but—but I—"

Astoria cuts herself off, fearing that if she talks anymore she'll cry. The Healer says a few things that Astoria doesn't hear, and soon enough she's directed to her own room where her leg (and its missing piece of skin and muscle) is taken care of. She's told to rest, that Draco will be fine and that despite the power of the spell the wounds are easy to deal with. Astoria refuses to do so, and tries various times to make her way out of her room, resulting in causing her bad leg to start bleeding again and again, until Neville and Luna show up and calm her down.

"The Healers told us that you were here," Neville explains as Astoria halfheartedly spoons some applesauce into her mouth, "and I came as soon as I could—Luna too," he nods in the direction of his girlfriend, and Astoria turns to her, watching the pretty blonde smile softly.

"I'm fine," she says, setting the watery applesauce on the table beside her, still in her clothes from earlier which are now slightly bloodied, patting the side of her left leg, "just lost some leg muscle."

"You what—Astoria—that's not fine!"

Astoria rolls her eyes, and then notices Luna frowning, and the Lovegood places a hand on Neville's arm. "She said she's fine, Neville."

"But—that's not—"

Luna smiles and nods at Astoria, who furrows her eyebrows, "I am sure that Astoria can determine if she's alright or not."

"But people say that they're fine all the time, and—and—they aren't!"

Astoria smiles to herself, looking down in her lap which is covered by a thin blanket, happy to know that Neville's freaking out over her—that she has someone that she didn't have as a kid; it feels good.

After Astoria claims that Yes Neville, I'm fine multiple times, he sits down in the uncomfortable seat beside the hospital bed, Luna sits on the arm of the chair, and Astoria feels awkward, not used to having attention like this. She squirms, restless, wanting to see Draco despite the fact that they aren't even close. They've barely even talked to each other, but somehow, Astoria wants to do that more. She wants be friends with him, despite his past—though she thinks that his past isn't all that bad. She wants to make him happy, to make him smile, and, she thinks that his smile is probably radiant. Yet, with Neville here, and maybe Luna, that won't do well.

"Um, Neville?" Astoria asks, and her friend worriedly looks up, firing off questions immediately.

"Are you okay?"

"Neville—"

"Is—is your leg okay? Do you need something? Are you—"

"—Mother of God—"

"Should I get a Healer? Luna I need to go—"

"Neville!" the Longbottom stills right after Astoria yells, and clutches Luna's shoulder, who pats his forearm comfortingly. Astoria rolls her eyes (not really annoyed), continuing.

"I just need some clothes, these are dirty. Can you grab some from my apartment?"

Neville nods, grins, and stands, quickly pulling on his coat. Luna chirps beside him, eyebrows furrowed, "Should I go with him, Astoria?"

"Er—" Astoria thinks quickly, figuring if she's going to see Draco she can't with this leg, "—um, could you not? I, uh, need help… with something…"

Luna beams, her hands clasped in front of herself, "Of course!" and thankfully, after giving Luna a swift kiss on the cheek, Neville heads out of the room.

Astoria scrambles off of the bed and stands, leaning on Luna for support, who gasps. "Astoria! You need to get back in bed—your leg!"

The brunette winces, moving her hand from Luna's shoulder to the bed. Her leg throbs, but she quickly dismisses the pain, staring at Luna fiercely as the woman bites her lip.

"I need your help, okay? I want to go see Draco."

Luna purses her lips, looking exceedingly worried, "But Astoria, you need to rest—and Draco can't be visited—and—and you could get hurt—"

"Luna, please," Astoria begs, something she doesn't do often, and Luna pauses, before sighing and giving in.

"If you must—"

"I—I do," Astoria answers, words coming out of her mouth on their own accord. Luna stares at her, bright blue eyes unwavering, and she smiles.

"Stay by me," she whispers, as if keeping a secret, and Astoria does, walking towards the exit. Luna opens the room's door and looks left and right down the clean hallway as Astoria waits behind her, and then follows the former Ravenclaw out into the empty hallway. The both of them sneak down, staying glued to the wall with Luna slightly in front of Astoria, who limps, pain making her leg pound. Luna pauses at the end of the hallway, looking over her shoulder with a silent question. Astoria nods (I'm fine,) and they turn, wary of any visitors or Healers. Somehow, they maneuver through three more corridors and dodge the gazes of two Healers, finally reaching the elevator. Luna and Astoria quickly slip in, and Luna presses the button that makes the doors shut so they don't have to wait for them to close.

Astoria grimaces and leans against the wall, leg feeling horrid, and breathes deeply through her nose. She's got this. She's fine, peachy clean. The bandages around her leg gets heavier, and Astoria mutters a quick curse as blood trickles down her calf. There's a hand on her elbow, and her eyes flicker open, finding Luna staring at her questioningly.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asks, and Astoria nods, pushing herself off of the wall as the elevator dings, wondering where Luna took them. "I'm fine."

Luna nods, not looking the least bit assured but walks out of the elevator slowly, the both of them knowing that this floor is much busier than the one above it. Healers bustle about, yelling, stretchers floating between groups with sick or injured patients between them. Astoria barely notices Luna has something in her hands until something falls over the both of them, and Astoria bends a little on instinct, gasping as she realizes what the thing is.

"Luna!" she whispers, the blonde carefully navigating them along the hallway, "How the hell did you get this?"

"Nicked it from Harry," Luna quietly, promptly whispers back, "had a feeling we'd use it," and Astoria pauses, not knowing what to say.

"I… you're amazing, Luna, you know that?"

Luna turns, looking slightly puzzled, as if Astoria had said that randomly. "Thank you…"

"Alright," Luna says, pulling off the cloak. After overhearing some Healers earlier, Astoria learned they were on the Spell Damage floor and that Draco's room was number four hundred-thirty-two, "You go in, Astoria. I'll tell Neville something upstairs."

Astoria beams, having a newfound respect for the blonde woman, "Thank you, Luna," and there's something in Luna's eyes, something that says she knows something that Astoria doesn't, and the brunette doesn't exactly like it.

"You're welcome," Luna replies, and then hurries Astoria in Draco's room.

Astoria leans against the door for a second, wary of her leg, and then pushes off, stumbling as quietly as she can towards Draco, who's sleeping in his bed, hands tucked under his head. Her heart falls as she falls into the chair beside his bed with a sigh, and wonders if she wanted him awake or not. A thin blanket is wrapped tightly around him, though his shoulders are exposed and Astoria can see a hint of bandages wrapped around his torso. Relief washes over her as she sees his chest fall and rise softly.

Her eyes travel up his shoulder and to his collarbone, then to his face. She's happy to see that most of the bruises are gone, and that his lip has been healed. Astoria pauses, and then with a shaking arm places her hand on Draco's shoulder, and it's warm. Draco shifts, and Astoria smiles, perking up as his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, dopily grins, but then snaps up. He gasps, hands flying to the bandages and Astoria's eyes widen as she stands, a hand reaching out though she doesn't know what she wants to do.

Draco pants, slowly calming down, and he glares at the brunette, who stares right back. "Where the fuck am I?" he asks, and Astoria drops her hand to the edge of the bed.

"Saint Mungo's; you were about to die, Draco. Did you want to kill yourself?"

Astoria stares at him, and he stares right back, and then she glares, "You were trying to kill yourself, weren't you? You barely wore anything, and you just sat in that damn bar waiting to die. How many times have you used Sectumsempra on yourself, Draco? How many?"

The man doesn't answer, continues to stare, and Astoria scowls, mad at herself.

"I can't believe I came all the way down here with half of my leg gone for you! I can't believe I tried to make you happy; I can't believe how I thought that just maybe you weren't as pathetic as everyone says you are!" Astoria's chest heaves, hands curled into fists, and she gives a bark-like laugh. "I was so stupid, wasn't I?"

Astoria sneers, "Pathetic," and turns on her heel, trying to walk away with as much force as she can muster with a ruined leg. About to open the door, she freezes at the sound of Draco's voice.

"Wait."

It's just a word, Astoria reminds herself. But it has so much power. It sounds helpless, confused, lost, and Astoria turns around, facing the Malfoy with a shaking form, feeling an emotion she can't quite place.

"W—What?"

Draco pauses, looking at her with solemn, slate eyes, and Astoria notices that they don't seem as dead anymore.

"Don't go."

A/N: YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA ABOUT HOW EXCITED I AM FOR THIS LKJTOWIA ;GOJRWAITR.

Anyways. This is going to be a multi-chap Draco/Astoria (which is purdy much the only het pairing I'm interested in writing—which is good I guess because there's like zero Draco/Astoria anything anywhere) fic based off of the amazing song Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. They're will be a line-thing for each chapter, but the song may not be entirely in order because then the story itself would be weird. Also, there may be regular chapters in between each part of the song, just to finish up the first set of lyrics before we move onto the next. And even though this chapter is about 4,617 words (minus lyrics and AN) I still think it's too short but whateva whateva.

Please tell me how you like it!

Also, updates may be about every two weeks because of my actual life and because of the fact that I have two other stories going on. I always start too many things before finishing others, and I should be worried about that—but I'm not!

HEY CHECK THIS OUT: Since I really like this universe thing I'll probably write some unrelated one-shots set in it, and just put in Iris-verse in the summary. I've got this smut idea but lol how do you write dat so it'll most likely be a hot damn shirtless make out session and everyone will hate me for stopping it.

Please review! I want to hear your opinion!

ALSO I'M JUST REALLY EXCITED OKAY LET ME VENT HERE FOR LIKE TWO SECONDS I THINK THAT THE PLOT IS AWESOME YAY SOON THEY'LL BE NAKED IN A LAKE AND THERE WILL BE ANGST AND DADDY PROBLEMS AND I'LL STOP TALKING LULZ.

EDIT: Dammit ff. The line breaks got erased, but I put them back in. Also, I hate that share thing in the corner up top. Totally ruins the look of the lyrics. Ugh,