Author's Notes: I own nothing, JKR owns all.
I spell it Asteria because that's how JKR spells it on the family tree.
Hélène Greengrass was a complete and utter pill.
None of them liked him, he knew that. Daphne had held a grudge against him since he broke it off with Pansy in their sixth year. Kallisto, the eldest of the three sisters, had done an admirable job of ignoring his presence at the table with Davies and Macmillan following suit. And their father, Linus, spent the evening scowling at him as if he'd quite like to throw Draco out on his arse.
Despite this, they had all attempted civility for Asteria's sake. The dinner had been mostly focused on benign topics including a forty-five minute discussion on whether or not this summer was warmer than the preceding one. (General consensus: it was.)
The exception to this was Hélène. She had never accepted his relationship with her daughter and seemed unlikely to change her poor opinion of him anytime soon. While no longer accusing him of blackmailing her daughter into a relationship or using Imperius or any other ludicrous suggestion, she had spent the entire night spoiling for a fight.
And ten minutes ago he had given her an opening. Draco couldn't see what was so wrong about stating that jobs should go to pure-blood wizards first since Muggle-borns had the option of going into the Muggle world for work but the entire table had reacted as if he had said he missed the Dark Lord.
Thanks to Davies, who apparently couldn't read a room to save his life, the conversation had turned to the topic of discrimination against Muggle-borns. Rich coming from a group that consisted of seven pure-bloods and one half-blood.
"It's insecurity is what it is," Hélène said. "After all, most of You-Know-Who's followers were half-bloods as was he. The pure-bloods were no better of course. Too many British wizards lack a sense of perspective and they know it, which is where this sense of insecurity comes from. I read that interview with Lestrange where he boasted that his family had been pure since the thirteenth century – as if that were remarkable," she scoffed.
She was baiting him, he knew that and yet Draco couldn't resist rising to the challenge. "How is it not?"
Across from him, Asteria opened her mouth as if hoping to prevent the inevitable. Hélène spoke first, however, her accent becoming more pronounced with her next words. "My family can trace our pure-blood lineage back to the fall of the Roman Empire. The Greengrass family can go further, to the destruction of the Temple." Her smile turned nasty. "While impressive to those grasping few who can only go back three or four generations before there's a name or two they have to explain away, seven hundred years is nothing to most wizards."
His father's voice echoed in his ears - weak blood is little better than dirty - and Draco had to purse his lips to keep from pointing out all the Squibs in the Greengrass line.
"Well, now that we've compared the length of our family trees," Asteria said coldly, glaring at her mother. "I think it's time for dessert."