Hello! I'm not JK Rowling. I swear, I'm not. This earns me no money. If it did, would I really be continuing to take exams?
Please read and review this! It's just an idea I had, based on the fact I wonder about Astoria Greengrass, and also whether she manages to get on with her sister.
Astoria was bored. There were no two ways around that fact. None of her friends were present – though she'd be embarrassed if they were. By now, her new in-laws would probably have insulted them so much that they'd either no longer be friends, or the afore-mentioned in-laws would no longer be alive. To be honest, she'd prefer the latter outcome.
It was the wedding of the year. People were practically selling their first-born sons to gain admittance, to watch Daphne Greengrass become Daphne Nott. Two of the most powerful, pure-blood lineages joining. Of course, the Nott family was no longer as wealthy as it had been, the Ministry having seized most of their assets as reparation for Death Eater activity. This, along with the arrest of Nott Senior, head of the family, had ensured their rapid decline in fortune.
They still had a name which was respected in certain circles, however. And the Greengrass family had both wealth and reputation. "At least my parents never took the Dark Mark," Astoria thought. So they had lost little of their money in the shake-up after the War. And with the death of Pansy Parkinson during the Final Battle, Daphne had become the most important girl in her year.
"Although, if you'd asked her before, she'd have believed she was the most important anyway. She just considered herself so far above the Golden Trio and their associates that she'd never have demeaned herself by leading the insults against them."
Daphne specialised in silent superiority, in disdain that could be transmitted merely through a glance and the lift of that aristocratic nose. Her fiancée – husband – was much the same. "The two of them swept back down that aisle with their heads tilted so much, I was tempted to ask what they found just so interesting about the ceiling. Or get someone to stick out an ankle for them to trip over."
Not that anyone at this gathering would have been so immature and ill-bred as to do so. Of course, they would all go home and dissect every part of the wedding, from which flowers had been used to the music that played at the reception, and use this to judge how the finances and power-plays in the newly linked families were going.
There wasn't much of a power play. Theodore's mother had died when he was very young, so Dorea Greengrass, their mother, had been in supreme control of the wedding. "Daphne must have had some input, of course. Or I wouldn't be a bridesmaid. Forget that, I wouldn't be here."
That was something which even Astoria found interesting. The intricacies of pure-blood courtesy had once intrigued her, but nineteen years of it meant that it had lost its sheen. But for some reason, she had been made a bridesmaid. Not maid-of-honour, of course. That position had gone to Solecia Avery, an aristocratic brunette who had been a year above Daphne and barely acquainted with her. But they would soon be contemporaries, at dull lunches before afternoons of shopping.
"Of course, Daphne can't afford to actually shop. At least, she soon won't be able to. But getting a job? Never!"
That was another reason why Astoria would never get on with her family. Sorted into Ravenclaw, disagreeing with family beliefs, and finally going out an working with the common herd rather than finding herself a nice man to settle down with. Or rather, any snob with pure blood. "And probably plenty of fun beliefs about the amazing Dark Lord."
Lilith Moon, Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode had all been invited, although only Lilith was a bridesmaid. Millicent was already married, to Goyle, so couldn't really be a bridesmaid, whilst Tracey, despite being a Slytherin, was a half-blood. "And we couldn't have a Greengrass having a half-blood bridesmaid."
The male attendants had been a similar show of the most recent pure-blood royalty. Blaise Zabini had been Theo's best man, but he had seemingly only returned from Italy for the wedding. He'd fled there at the beginning of seventh year, and hadn't returned. From all reports, he'd settled well. He wasn't the only one who had barely been seen in England. Draco Malfoy and Samuel Nott had been the other two with Theo. Draco had taken some job with the goblins, and his tanned skin spoke of a life lived as far from England as he could get. The Malfoys had fared slightly better than the Notts – as Narcissa had been pardoned, they had kept any properties which belonged to her, meaning that though the Manor in Wiltshire had been lost, they still possessed a London house and a decent-sized mansion in Cumbria.
Sam Nott hadn't graduated Hogwarts yet, having been two years below Astoria, but Theo himself worked for an American company, possibly the closest English-speaking country which would give him a job.
Astoria grimaced as she remembered the wedding dance. She'd had to dance with Sam Nott, as her equivalent attendant, and he'd gripped her arms so tightly that she was sure it would leave bruises. "Honestly, I was hardly going to run away. Speaking of running away…"
She'd attended the ceremony, endured the meal and now, surely, she could go. She turned to find Daphne and present her congratulations before slipping away. Maybe, if she got out soon, some of her friends might be in a mood to go out.
She walked forward, away from the wall she had been leaning on. Her mother had probably been glaring at her for doing so – slouching was hardly the mark of a well-bred girl – but she'd given up caring what her parents wanted a long time ago.
Picking her way around the dance floor, between tables and chairs, she came face to face with someone else doing the exact same. She stepped to the side to let him past – just as he did so. Attempting it again, she found him shadowing her.
"How terribly amusing, we keep doing the same thing, haha." Astoria said, bored. Her feet hurt and she really wanted to go home. "Now, we've dealt with the obligatory pleasantry when someone does this, so if you'd just move to the left whilst I stay still."
"How terribly charming you are," the man replied. "Are we even acquainted?"
"No. There are three reasons for that. One, you actually use words like 'acquainted' and 'terribly' without even the slightest sarcasm, although you clearly are aware of the notion, as you demonstrated excellent use of it there when you called me charming. Two, my family is deeply ashamed that their beautiful pure blood could produce someone like me. Three….I can't even muster the effort to choose a third reason out of the myriad that present themselves. That, Mr Malfoy, is why we are not acquainted."
"So you're the younger sister. I heard someone gossiping about the black – or rather, the white sheep of the family being invited. And please, call me Draco."
"Of course. Draco, please call me Miss Greengrass."
She stepped past him and continued on her path to see Daphne. Who, she saw with dismay, was in conversation with her mother.
"There is no way I'm interrupting that. Mother probably wouldn't even acknowledge me if I did. The only thing she's said to me all day was 'Please pass the bread basket,' and when I put it perfectly within her reach, she waited until someone else picked it up. And they call me ill-bred! I'm possibly the politest person here – okay, maybe not," she conceded. She had quite a sharp tongue, something her friends loved and her enemies feared.
Trying not to look as if she'd simply stopped in her tracks and turned around, she pretended to idly scan the ballroom. She noticed a gaggle of pure-bloods very close to her; Malfoy, both Notts, Solecia and her brother Veridon, the Goyles, Zabini and Lilith.
Astoria let her eyes wander somewhere else, made certain they were gazing at a piece of artwork rather than a person and then concentrated furiously on overhearing the conversation.
"…have to wait a few years for people to trust us again," Theodore Nott was saying. "It'll probably be mostly down to our children."
"Yes," Solecia Avery agreed. "They'll be needed to restock the Wizenmagot with decent pure-bloods, not that Mudblooded rabble that fills it nowadays. And if we go about it the right way, proposing laws that don't seem that terrible, and then finally get a Minister of Magic who we want, then we'll have won. The Dark Lord had the right idea, after all. He really just went the wrong way about it. Outright attack just stirs up all those little Gryffindors to fight. But if we do it through the government, they'll barely notice. They trust the government now. Now they can elect the Minister. They trust the people to be good enough and smart enough to vote for the right leaders."
Astoria let her gaze flick over the group of….conspirators? "Is that the right word? Bad losers would be another one. I can't believe they're doing this. I can't believe they haven't worked out yet that they were wrong! Look at yourselves! Look at the people who ought to be here today. Solecia's father should be here! Pansy Parkinson ought to have been Daphne's maid of honour. Goyle should still be 'Crabbe and Goyle'. Though maybe we're better off with it like that." Housemates of Astoria had been tortured by that pair.
Astoria looked at their faces. Lilith, Theo, Solecia, and Veridon Avery all looked smug and self-satisfied. Sam Nott, Goyle and Blaise wore completely blank expressions. Millicent looked vaguely irritated. Malfoy..his eyes were narrowed with anger. "Are those two angry at the Muggleborns?" Astoria wondered. "The Ministry?"
She shook her head. "People are supposed to learn from their mistakes!" she thought. As a trainee Obliviator, she sometimes wondered if she was doing the right thing when a Muggle's memories were erased. Memories made a person who they were. If they'd nearly lost someone they loved, it could have helped them appreciate that person. If they'd stupidly wandered into danger, they could realise not to do so again. "But it seems that world-view is wrong, at least in the case of some pig-headed pure-bloods over there."
She turned to see that Daphne had finished talking to their mother. "Finally," she told her sister, hugging her. Daphne jumped. Astoria smirked inwardly. Neither girl was the hugging type – they'd not been brought up to be. But Astoria had later made friends who insisted on hugging her, and she'd slowly come to accept it, though she'd never initiate a hug. Unless it was to annoy a sister. The appropriate way to greet, after all, would have been a kiss on the cheek – placed in the air a good two inches from Daphne's cheek.
"Thank you for inviting me, do have a nice life," she said, affecting the tone with which her family spoke, and that she had quickly dropped when she started Hogwarts. "At least, a nice four years. That's how long it's been since we've spoken, right?"
Astoria had stopped speaking to her parents in the summer before her fifth year. The summer, coincidentally, when the world had gone to hell in a hand basket. She'd remained at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter, even through the Carrows' reign and avoided all family contact during the summer. As soon as she turned seventeen, she had got a flat of her own, taking out loans and debts to do so. Only to find those loans repaid – by Daphne.
"Actually, it's three. I spoke to you on May 1st." Daphne smiled. "Thank you for coming. good luck with the job, and finding a husband."
Astoria nodded, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes. She leaned closer to her sister's ear. "Hope you get pregnant soon, Daphne."
She blew a kiss and began to walk away. "If you ever need a place to stay," Daphne said quietly, before Astoria got too far away, "you can always come to me."
"Thanks, but unless I also want an exit from this mortal plane – or unless you do – living together might not be the best option." Astoria paused. "But thanks." She added sincerely.
Daphne had, however, already turned to greet another well-wisher. "Well, that was a waste of that reply," Astoria thought. "And I've been wanting to use the phrase 'mortal plane' for ages."
"'I spoke to you on May 1st,'" Astoria remembered. Daphne hadn't needed to say the year. In what other year had May been quite so important?
Her sister hadn't said much. Just that it was a nice day. That she hoped the summer was nice. And that she hoped Astoria would be there to enjoy it.
"It was obvious what she was afraid of. We knew there'd be a confrontation sooner or later, and she was worried I wouldn't live through. But if she'd thought about who I actually was, she'd have known she didn't have to worry."
Maybe sitting on a fence between two enemies was the stupidest place to be during a war. But that was where Astoria had been. Of course, she had mocked the Carrows, submitted homework that was only thinly disguised as an insult. Not that they'd noticed. The Ravenclaws had laughed every time that essays on the shortcomings of Muggles had come back, with 'Outstanding' written on them, when only the first few lines had been about Muggles and the rest a critique of Voldemort's strategy, Alecto's hairstyle or Amycus' voice. Or just an entirely unrelated topic, submitted due to a lack of time. They'd known that the Carrows could barely read from very early on.
Although Astoria hadn't been laughing when the Carrows proved they could read names at the top of submitted work. Ravenclaw nearly spat with anger when Sarah, a half-blood who was the smartest girl in their year was given constantly failing marks.
Yet Astoria hadn't joined the DA like some. Hadn't pledged to fight. The truth was, she didn't like it. She enjoyed a good verbal spat, full of double meanings and banter, but physical fighting made her stomach roll. She'd gone on an outing once with workmates to see a Muggle action film. She'd had to leave soon after the first punch was thrown. She really, really didn't like blood. Or the glass-eyed stare of a dead body. Or unnatural things happening to skin, like burns and boils spontaneously rising. She'd have been more a liability in a battle than an ally.
So she didn't bother to learn to fight. She'd hide if it came to that. It wasn't that she couldn't fight people she'd grown up knowing, like most people thought – their approval meant nothing to her. She didn't know it, but the expression her face wore when thinking of that type was similar to her sister's disdainful sneer so as to be slightly disturbing.
And she'd been relieved when McGonagall had sent all under-age students out. And impressed when people had tried to return – she'd helped them do so. But she couldn't go. She wanted Harry Potter and his friends to win. And she knew she should help. But she just couldn't, and she couldn't express how she felt to even her closest friends so that they could find a way for her to help without having to be around the fighting.
Although those friends weren't really close. She'd had no real idea of how to behave among normal people, and as a result had made few friends in her early years, though the situation had improved. At work now, people no longer thought of her first as 'that Greengrass girl.'
As Astoria collected her coat from the House-Elves, she headed to the Apparition Point, passing a bar on the way. Where she saw Draco Malfoy, downing a shot of something blue. Then asking for another. As she watched, he drained four more shots of what she had heard to be called a Teeth Kick. As in, it's better than a kick in the teeth. It was the drink of choice for those who wanted to get really drunk, really fast, as it was magically designed so that half would vaporise in the mouth – giving that kick to your teeth, albeit from the inside – and pass into your lungs, therefore moving much more quickly into the bloodstream.
The bartender had refused Draco another shot. This was only slightly impressive – true, he was turning away money. But drunken wizards could cause a lot of trouble, usually ending up in a lot of legal trouble for an establishment.
Unfortunately, as Astoria saw when Draco stood, he was already a long way past sober. And tipsy, and most other points on the scale of sobriety. And he was heading for the Apparition Point.
She darted to stop him. "Are you crazy?" she asked in a whisper. "If you Apparate in your state, you'll be lucky to only lose a limb."
Although he had little choice – Narcissa hadn't attended the wedding, to people's general surprise, and Flooing was equally risky. With his current inability to speak properly, he could end up anywhere.
"What're you going to do about it? Start a rebellion? Or maybe just make sure that people like you end up running the country, so our kids get to make the mistakes we all made."
Astoria stared, shocked. "What did you just say?" she gasped, hardly able to believe that Draco Malfoy, an actual Death Eater, not just a wannabe like most of those in there, was disagreeing with what they'd said.
Then she suddenly realised how loudly he was speaking. And how strange they must look, her hands on his shoulders, preventing him from moving.
But her curiosity was too great to just drop it. "Come here," she hissed, and dragged him into the booth from which it was safe to Apparate. "Hold on," she told him, before thinking of her flat in Nottingham. With a crack, they vanished.
She dragged him to a seat, and poured him a glass of water, before getting one for herself.
She sat opposite him. "Drink that water or not, it's your head that'll hurt tomorrow," she told him and was about to ask him exactly what he'd meant when she saw what he was doing to his water. He had his wand out and was twisting it, muttering something.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he'd cast the spell. And turned the 500ml glass to Teeth Kick. And hers too. "Don't even think of drinking that. It'll kill you," she warned.
"So?" he shrugged hopelessly.
"So I didn't Apparate you here out of concern for your wellbeing. I'm sure your reputation can do without the damage that associating with myself could bring."
"You know, you toss your hair just like your sister."
Astoria would have hissed, if she'd been brought up that way. Instead she raised one blonde eyebrow. "That isn't an opinion of yours in which I hold any interest."
"But you do care about my opinions on starting a new platoon of Death Eaters out of our offspring. How female, worrying about the children. Don't worry your bleeding heart over it."
"My heart is hardly bleeding. I wore blue colours at Hogwarts, not red. Call it…. curiosity," She chose not to rise to his insult about women. It was too ridiculous to deserve a response.
"Blue colours? A long-winded way to say that you were a Ravenclaw. You could just say that you were boring."
Astoria almost responded. But she paused, then smiled slowly. "He's baiting me." she realised. "Hoping that if I get angry enough, I'll forget my question. He must have sobered up a bit. Congratulations to him, not many can do it so effectively, but really. I can take a lot more."
She ignored the obvious responses. Trotting out 'and you were a Death Eater' was hardly original. "You're right," she mused. "Ravenclaws are pretty dull. All work, no play, that's our motto. But there is that reward. I believe I received straight 'Outstandings' at OWL level. You?"
"Maybe I wasn't the most academic," he agreed. "Although I beat Daphne. Curiosity, you said. Is it frustrating, when you can't get anyone to tell you anything because you lack even the basic idea of charm? Or dress sense. I hate to tell you this, but that colour really doesn't suit you."
"My sister picked this stupid colour," she thought. "I'm well aware that it doesn't suit me." Astoria had the same colouring as her sister – very pale skin and blonde hair, although she did have the vivid green eyes that were a family trait. "It's no coincidence, however, that it's a colour which best suits Solecia."
"Working with the goblins," she mused. "Tell me, is that because you have an attraction to one of their women? I've heard that it's best to go for small creatures if you do have that problem with size. And it does run in your family. My apologies for the loss of that house-elf."
Draco gasped. "I don't…my father didn't."
"Shame, he broke so easily. That was fun. But I'm tired, and these stupid pins that the hairdresser put in my hair are stabbing me! He's sobering Maybe I should get him drunk again, get the information out of him more quickly."
She nodded to his glass. "Since you went to the effort of changing that, why aren't you drinking it?"
"Ladies first," he replied smoothly.
She eyed the blue liquid. In truth, she wanted to. She'd never tasted Teeth Kick before – not only was it budget-shatteringly expensive but, when drunk by a woman, it sent a signal that you were likely to be drunk within the hour, and that you were looking for a night with someone to forget things. And with her lack of enthusiasm for either Defence Against the Dark Arts, or having drunken, barely-consensual sex with an ugly stranger, she felt that might be the wrong signal to send.
She was safe enough here though. And she was desperate to know, now. She lifted her glass and took a quick gulp. The inevitable tightening of the lips that followed the sudden shock of any properly alcoholic shot occurred, then she gasped. The sudden shock had been so much more! "That is not false advertising," Astoria marvelled.
She narrowed her eyes at Draco, who had also taken a sip. "Such a shame that inventions like that won't be made under the new regime your friends are planning. It was invented by a Muggleborn, after all. Like that new Dragon Pox vaccine…but wait. I think you know the Muggleborn who invented that, right? "
It took a few more sips of the drink and even more verbal barbs exchanged before Draco told her anything. And when he did, she was too drunk to properly understand. She wasn't nearly as far gone as him though – she'd been casting a Sober-Up Spell on herself after they'd taken the first couple.
She discovered that he had been horrified by everything he'd seen and done as a Death Eater. That he considered the Dark Lord a hypocrite and a bully. That he didn't hate Muggleborns any longer – in his travels through work, he'd come across other types of prejudice that weren't prevalent in the wizarding world, such as race, and had slowly realised that blood prejudice was the same, both based on a characteristic that didn't affect who the person was and which had been decided by random chance at birth. He'd decided to drink himself stupid at the bar through sheer anger at his former friends' ideas.
No sobering spell was a match for this drink, however, and she could only file the information in her brain for a later date. Not that it mattered, in the end. He'd never repeat his opinion in quite so much detail, but over the two-year relationship that followed, she'd come to understand his point of view.
This is the first part of two. The next skips a bit – to their wedding.
Tell me what you think? Of Astoria? Daphne? Draco? Alcohol? The colour blue?
I'll take any random comment, really.