author's note: not sure how i feel about this in terms of quality, but yeah. first attempt at drastoria. i don't own it, yo.

She hadn't meant to inhale so many paint fumes. It had been an accident; one moment she was humming the latest Weird Sisters track, and watching the wall she was spraying turn from grey to pink (such a satisfying feeling) and the next she was flat on her back, head spinning, and heart pounding. Her sister, baby on hip, was looming above her, and for a brief moment Astoria was reminded of the summer before Daphne went off to school, the pair of them lying on the grass by Greengrass Lake and watching the clouds go by.

"Astoria," her sister hissed, "what in Merlin's name-?"

She tried to explain, but her mouth was horribly dry, and so the only noise that came out was 'uuuughkosn'.

"Oh for Circe's sake," Daphne snapped, "get up, girl."

Astoria tried to heave herself up by her elbows, but it was no use. Movement only made her head swim more.

"Daph," she croaked, "Daph…"

"Don't Daph me! Your bloody art's going to kill you one day, you know that, don't you?"

She did not respond. Everything was slightly fuzzy, and her stomach was churning.

"I'll have to take you to St. Mungo's myself," her sister was saying, more to herself than to Astoria, "Squidge'll have to take the baby; Blaise can't- oh, Astoria, do get up."

"I…"

Her sister shifted the baby further up her hip, and reached out one long, pale hand to help her. Stars popping in front of her eyes, Astoria clambered to her feet.

"I'm going to leave my only child in the care of a house elf, and it's all your fault." Daphne said seriously, and Astoria put her head in her hands.

"Ugh."

Her sister ignored her. "Merlin's sake, Ast, none of the bloody windows are open! Are you mad?"

"No…."

"You are, you're bloody mental! Right. Well. I'll just put the baby down and we'll be off," she strode to the door, "don't collapse again."

"I'll try," Astoria mumbled.

St Mungo's was practically empty. There was a man who had a kettle attached to his hand, and a girl with a nasty smelling gash on her arm, and a little fat old lady who didn't look like there was anything wrong with her, but who was accompanied by her concerned looking daughter, and was humming loudly, and out of tune.

"Greengrass," Daphne said in a clipped tone to the receptionist. She – the receptionist - looked very bored, and her long brown hair was littered with split ends. Astoria sort of pitied her; fancy spending all your time stuck behind a desk, watching other people live whilst you decayed. If it were her, she wouldn't be able to bear it.

"Take a seat," the girl replied, tone dull and eyes glazed over. Astoria did as she was told.

"My head is spinning," she mumbled in her sister's ear, but Daphne ignored her.

"I wish you'd get over this painting phase, Astoria," she said sharply, "and sort yourself out."

Astoria didn't say anything. Her head was thumping, like the bassline of a Weird Sisters song.

"Greengrass," a cool, clear voice rang through the room, and Astoria clambered to her feet. She paused, waiting for Daphne to join her. But the blonde girl did not move, and merely quirked one eyebrow in the direction of her sister.

"Well?" she said sharply, and Astoria waved one hand lamely.

"I thought you were…y'know…"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Astoria, you can go in on your own!"

"I just-"

"Don't be a baby."

Astoria ran a hand through her long dark hair, and a sad sigh escaped her lips. Her sister did not move.

"Greengrass," the cool voice said again, and as Astoria turned to go, the floor rolled underneath her like the sea on a stormy day. She gritted her teeth. She could do it. She was a snake, after all, and she could cross the short space between her chair and the door, she could do it, she could do it, she could -

"Shite," she mumbled, clinging to the handle of the door as she opened it.

"Hello?" came the Healer's voice. Well. It didn't sound like a Healer; the tone of it was too young, too fresh.

"Shite," she said again, standing up. The floor was still again, and she could see the Healer – although, he wasn't wearing the robes of a fully trained Healer, so she was right, he wasn't fully trained – stood with his arms folded, leaning against a desk. Said desk was covered in paper, notes and files.

"Shite," she repeated.

It was Draco Malfoy, old school friend (sort of) of her sister, and known reformed Death Eater.

"Hullo," she muttered, mouth suddenly very dry. He looked bored. He always looked bored at school too (except when he was in sixth year, and she in fourth; he looked scared then).

"Hullo," he replied, "Astoria, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Paint…paint fumes…"

"Yeah," he said, gesturing to the folder he had in his hand, "yeah, the, uh, Mu - Sally on the desk said so."

"She doesn't look like a Sally," Astoria mused. He laughed.

"On the bed, Greengrass."

"Don't you have to take me to dinner first?"

He smirked, and she moved to sit on the end of the bed. "My head is spinning," she said quietly, as he flicked through the notes. She wanted to swing her legs, but something about the gesture seemed so childish and ridiculous that she refrained from doing so. She didn't want him to think she was a kid, because she wasn't.

"Paint fumes will do that to you," he muttered, putting the folder down and getting out his wand, "I just need to check you've not got any concussion, or lasting damage…let me just…"

She held her breath as the end of his wand glowed white and burned her eyes. When he was finished, he made a note on the piece of paper that read ASTORIA LOUISE GREENGRASS on the top, and then she exhaled, slowly and quietly. Merlin, she hated hospitals.

"Am I going to die?" she asked, with forced cheerfulness.

"No," he replied, "you'll need to drink a disgusting potion though."

"Death is preferable."

He laughed again. She wondered why on Earth he was here, giving spoilt rich girls disgusting potions when he could be living it up in his manor, when he could live the easy life. And, always one to speak her mind (it had got her into so much trouble at school) she said so.

"Why are you here?" she asked, "You don't – I mean, you're a Malfoy. You don't have to work for anything."

"You don't beat about the bush, do you?" he asked, quirking up one eyebrow as he made his way to a shelf full of potions on the other side of the room. Astoria shook her head, but it made her eyes swim, and her stomach churn.

"No," she replied, "I don't."

She wasn't the first person to ask him that, but she was the first person he answered. Everyone else's tone was accusatory, like he was doing it to spite them, but Astoria just wanted to know. He liked that about her – he'd liked it about her sister too, her curiousity (they should've been Ravenclaws, but he'd seen the steel in the elder's eye, and he suspected Astoria possessed it too). "I did a lot of…I made a lot of mistakes," it felt like a release, like flying, only without a broomstick, "and I…I, uh…"

"You want to atone for them?" she finished quietly. Her eyes were dark and serious, and Draco knew that she was not judging him for what he said, or what he had done.

"Yeah, something…something like that." He crossed the room, and handed her a vial. "Bottoms up, Greengrass."

She grimaced, and took the vial. "You know," she said, "it's very admirable of you."

"Drink the potion, Greengrass."

Astoria downed the clear liquid. It burnt the back of her throat, and tasted like a mix of burnt toffee and toothpaste. She nearly gagged. "Merlin's saggy bollocks, that's disgusting!"

"But your head's alright, isn't it?"

She looked up at him. His eyes were so grey, and sad. She'd never met a boy with such sad eyes before.

"Yeah," she mumbled, "yeah, my head's alright."

"Paint with the windows open next time," he told her, and she laughed.