Keeping the Stars Apart
Pairing: Draco Malfoy & Astoria Greengrass
Word Count: 952
Summary: He wishes he could be fixed so easily.
Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. No, I really am. Here I am, starting a new collection fic when there are actual chaptered stories to be finished. I apologise most sincerely. HOWEVER, I've been wanting to write a ficlet collection for Draco/Astoria for a VERY long time, and I finally found a challenge that inspired me to do so. Hurrah! So this is a series of Draco/Astoria ficlets and they may not always follow on from each other but they are all about the same Draco/Astoria story. Feedback is appreciated of course, I hope you like it!
Broken Glass
August, 1996
Draco takes a long drink of water and then sets the glass back down on the wooden surface of the table. He's in the Greengrass family's kitchen, having been sent to stay with them for the whole summer. At first he'd hated it, loathing the company of each and every one of the four Greengrasses, but eventually he'd formed some sort of friendship with their youngest daughter, Astoria. Recently he'd even felt the beginnings of it slowly becoming more.
His eyes skim over the letter before him, illuminated in the moonlight coming through one of the large windows. The letter is from his mother, and the contents of it are not in the least bit pleasing to him. He lowers his head into his hands, feeling completely helpless.
Footsteps coming down the stairs alert him to concealing the letter in his dressing gown pocket and he is looking at the door when Astoria enters, a look of shock on her face upon seeing him sat at the table.
"Draco?" she asks, as if for confirmation that yes, it is really him, and not some ghost- although, Draco thinks bitterly, he probably looks paler than one after the news he's recieved- "What are you doing up?"
He runs a hand over his face and smiles weakly. "Couldn't sleep."
Astoria smiles at him, empathising. "Me neither. Do you want a glass of milk?"
Draco frowns. "No, thank you."
"Oh, sorry," Astoria says as she slips inside the pantry for a milk bottle. "I forgot- you don't like it, do you?"
"No," Draco says shortly, turning his gaze back to the tabletop.
Astoria cocks her head to one side, surveying him. "Are you alright?" she asks as she goes to the cabinet for a glass.
"I'm fine," he says, but he can't stop himself sighing. He reaches for his glass of water and takes a long, cooling sip. "I'm fine," he repeats, as if to not only reassure Astoria, but himself too.
Astoria looks at him skeptically as she pours the milk into her glass. "No, seriously. What's bugging you? Come on, cough up- it could never be that bad."
If only you knew, Draco thinks and then sighs again. "Nothing's bothering me, Astoria. Nothing that will interest you, I'm sure."
"Try me," she says, flashing a smile over her shoulder as she reaches for the biscuit tin. She sets about getting two plates and arranging chocolate biscuits on each of them.
Draco sighs. "Mother sent me a letter." He knows the statement means more to him than to Astoria, who will misinterpret it for some argument he and his mother are having.
"Is that all?" she asks. "Gosh, I thought it was something bad. Listen, Draco, she'll come round. Whatever you've done this time, I'm sure it can be fixed..."
"Mother wants me back." He watches as Astoria tenses, her back going rigid and her hands moving to a stop.
"For the day?" she asks, trying to keep her voice level when really it is strangled and high. She keeps her face away from him so that she can hide her reaction and picks up the glass of milk to take a sip as her mouth is suddenly very, very dry.
Draco shakes his head, even though she can't see him. "For the rest of the holidays. She's taking me to..." he pauses, not knowing exactly whether he should be telling Astoria this- torn between wanting her to know and wanting to protect her from the truth. "To Him." For once, he decides honesty is the best policy.
On hearing the last word, Astoria drops the glass. It falls gracefully, as if in slow motion, and smashes hard against the floor, splattering it with a mixture of broken glass and pure white milk that stands out against the dark wood of the floor. They both stare at the mess it has made, but neither of them make a move to clear it up.
Tears start to brim behind Astoria's eyelids and she quickly blinks them away as the cat, King, comes from under the table and starts to lick at the milk. Astoria stoops to gather him in her arms to stop him from treading on the broken glass and turns to look at Draco. His eyes say the words she knows he can't say to her: I'm sorry.
"Well," she says, trying to keep her voice level as she musters as much contempt as she can, especially for the last two words. "I'm sure you'll do a very good job of eating Death." Her voice cracks on the last word and she tears her eyes from Draco's as she flees the room. Draco hears her running up the stairs and smooths a hand down his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, to no one in particular- perhaps to Astoria, perhaps to himself. "I'm sorry."
He can almost feel the letter burning him through his dressing gown pocket as he bends to clear up the milk and broken glass. With a sweep of his wand he mends the glass, watching as all the pieces fit back together as if they'd never been broken at all. He wishes he could be fixed so easily.