Story Title: Cosmopolitan
Part 1/3
Disclaimer: Still not mine, sadly. Not that I've ever particularly wanted Draco, but he seems to be taking over. ::sighs:: JKR owns them.
Draco Malfoy had always taken pride in his image. He'd been fastidious about the state of his hair, concerned about finding the right cologne and downright obsessive about getting the best clothes. The concern for his overall image had gone one step further, however. He'd devoted a lot of time in the days after he left Hogwarts to the careful study of the most inane subjects, conversation starters as he liked to call them. He'd found that if you had a good topic, people would refrain from asking about the war.
He'd do anything to avoid questions about the war.
They'd moved to the coast of France right afterwards, trying to avoid the negative press.
His parents still lived down there in total oblivion, choosing to believe that things were just like they used to be and life hadn't changed for their only son. That their name didn't bring with it insult and ridicule.
That he was just Draco Malfoy to people, and not that Malfoy Coward.
He, however, was painfully aware of the truth. He hid from it, because he was good at doing that, frequented outlandish parties and stayed carefully away from places where he might run into former classmates. It was comfortable, to go back to worrying about his appearance, and to forget when he had to worry about anything but.
Astoria Greengrass somehow changed that.
A whirlwind of blonde hair and incredibly dark eyes, he hadn't recognized her as a Hogwarts alumna at first. Her French had been perfect, her manner reminiscent of the half-Veela that had been the Beauxbatons representative at the Tri-wizard Tournament. He'd been totally captivated by her, but he'd chalked that up to her being part Veela, and had carefully avoided going close to her.
That was, until she'd come face to face with him, extended her hand and said in crisp, perfect English:
"Astoria Greengras. You were a couple years ahead of me at Hogwarts."
He'd found it hard to compose a coherent response. Up close, her eyes seemed to be burning into him, and he felt like taking two steps back. Dimly, he recalled Daphne Greengrass and somehow made the connection, but he couldn't remember seeing that face before; he was somehow sure he never would have forgotten about it if he had. He was completely aware that his own thoughts didn't make much sense, and he felt dimly detached from it all, almost as if mind and body were two separate entities, operating on completely different instructions.
"Erm, Draco Malfoy," he'd managed. "I can't say I remember you from Hogwarts."
Charming. At least he'd refrained from adding that if he had remembered her he would have made sure he'd fled the room before she had a chance to interrogate him. That's all everyone seemed to want to do, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. They all wanted to know why. And he didn't have an answer he felt like sharing.
"I didn't think you would," she replied calmly. "Or I wouldn't have introduced myself." There was a glimmer of a smile lurking there, just for a moment before her face relaxed into the somewhat stern expression that seemed to be her trademark. "I will admit I was a little relieved at seeing a familiar face among the crowd, so I will apologize for imposing myself on you. Parties like these make me rather uncomfortable."
"Not very Slytherin of you" was all he could say.
"Whoever said I was a Slytherin?" She was smiling now; Draco could see it, though her smile didn't seem to take over her whole expression like it did with others. But she was clearly amused, and he felt a sudden pain in his chest at the thought. He could still have this conversation. Amazing.
"You were a Slytherin," he assured, though he really had no way of knowing. He'd like to tell himself it didn't really matter, that if she said she'd been a Hufflepuff he wouldn't turn around and leave, but he wasn't quite sure that was true. He still clung to many of his ideas, because they were his, and giving up all of them meant giving up who he was. He wasn't willing to do that.
Either she could see through his confusion, or she never truly meant to trick him, because she nodded. "I was." She was inching somewhat closer to him, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I've always prided myself on my ability to appear rather insignificant, though. Innocent, if you will."
He couldn't pay attention to her words. He knew she was saying something important, giving him a glimpse of personality that she probably kept tightly locked. Her perfume was distracting him, though, a tangy scent that reminded him of absolutely no one. He'd never known a girl who dared to use a perfume like that.
"You don't really seem innocent," he told her, after a while. Enough time had passed so that his reply made her jump slightly, almost as if she'd been somehow sure that the conversation was over.
"You only say that because I admitted that I was trying to appear so."
He nodded. It was entirely possible she was right. He'd underestimated her from the start; chalked up her charm to magical means when truly, up close, he could see that she wasn't as beautiful as he made her out to be. Her nose was a bit crooked, her lips too thin for her face. They made her look stern, even when she was simply looking ahead.
The eyes that had impressed him seemed to be in total contradiction to her blonde hair, almost as a badly put-together outfit. Up close she almost seemed almost unbearably thin, in a way his mother would appreciate but that he didn't find attractive at all.
Why he still found her mesmerizing, he would never know.
She interrupted the silence, once again. "Would you care to dance, Mr. Malfoy? I do believe you're suited to withstand the hardships much better than my previous partners."
He nodded, feeling completely and utterly stupid. He didn't know what to say to her, and it wasn't just what she was that made him tongue-tied. It was also where she came from, what she probably knew about him. The inevitable question hung in the air, and he half-wished her could stop time and make sure she never had the chance to ask it.
There was no chance of talking as they stepped onto the dance floor. She stepped into his embrace, and together they followed the music. He felt stuck in the middle of a cliché, utterly and completely lost to the moment, and yet dimly aware that he wasn't the first person to ever feel like this, and he'd end up looking stupid sooner or later.
"Thank you," she said, when the music stopped. "I do believe my uncle is calling me." She nodded towards an older looking man in the corner. "I guess I'll see you later."
Something came over him suddenly, like the ghost of the man his mother had always fancied his father to be. "Save me another dance," he said, softly, but strong enough for her to hear.
There was a glint in her eyes. "Will do, Mr. Malfoy," she replied after a moment and left him to contemplate all the possible ways she could mess up his life. The negatives vastly outnumbered the positives, and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he should make up an excuse and just leave the party, or even worse, disappear completely without a word.
He stayed rooted to the spot, however, watching couple after couple of not-so familiar faces pass across the dance floor. His mind strayed to the Yule Ball, to Pansy Parkinson and sweaty hands, to that forgettable night in the Room of Requirement and many good ones afterwards. To the Hogwarts he liked to remember.
It was all gone in a flash, though. Hogwarts was once again a dreary and unwelcome presence in his mind, and the image of Crabbe came unbidden to his mind, as he'd seen him that last time, eyes fixed on nothing.
He hadn't kept in touch with anyone after school ended, not even Goyle. He'd felt ready for a new start, yet dreaded the inevitable questions new friends would bring. So he remained alone, and aloof, completely untouched by it all.
Draco Malfoy didn't need anyone, after all.
It got a bit lonely after a while, but he couldn't really say he regretted his decision. He didn't long for Hogwarts days, in fact, he wished to avoid all memories of them, because it all ended badly and he wished he could forget most of the decisions he'd made. He wasn't ashamed, not of who he was, but he often wondered what would have changed if his choices had been different.
He never reached a conclusion he liked.
Which is why he mainly avoided thinking. The sight of an old classmate, someone who knew what his role had been in those final days, had clearly brought back memories he'd been trying to repress. If he were truly as smart as he liked to think he was, he'd turn the other way, walk out of the room and hope he never laid eyes on her again.
Instead, he took a deep breath and went to look for her. She owed him a dance.
"A Malfoy?" her presumed uncle had been saying when he came close enough to listen, and he wasn't quite sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult. He didn't really care one way or another, if he was to be honest with himself. He'd been interested in her, not in her presumed family.
"Draco Malfoy. And I do believe I owe him another dance, so I'd better go find him," she said, with much more charm than she ever used while speaking to him, and headed for the other side of the room.
It took her close to fifteen minutes to find him, and yet he made no move towards her. He'd missed the better part of the conversation, he was sure of that, and it's not like she'd really said anything, in his favour or against him. But it was out in the open now, acknowledged. Of that he was sure. She wasn't just dancing with any other former classmate. It was Draco Malfoy. That Malfoy.
She was bound to ask now.
"Mr. Malfoy," her voice dispelled his somewhat gloomy thoughts. "I do believe I'm in line for another dance."
"Certainly, Miss Greengrass," he said, and he felt quite proud to see his voice seemed to have returned.
The rest of the night passed by in what Draco would later describe as a blur. It wasn't a completely pleasant feeling, he could feel the edges of a familiar worry as he held on to her slender form, but he seemed stuck in the rhythm. His mind wandered, and yet the thoughts weren't all-consuming, his attention was elsewhere, so they didn't seem to matter.
He'd never stayed at one of these parties so late.
They lingered together near the dance floor for a while, while people bid their goodbyes and left, some quietly, some in a much more boisterous manner. They didn't really talk much, but for the first time in more than Draco cared to admit, he felt that companionship really didn't bother him.
He saw the signs that she would soon be leaving before she turned towards him. In the corner he could see her uncle, and a woman he could only presume to be her aunt, bidding farewell to the hostess. He wasn't sure he'd ever see her again, and he felt he ought to say something, but he couldn't come up with any words that could express something he didn't really understand.
She saved him from coming up with something by whispering his name.
"Draco?"
"Yes?" His voice was firm, but he could see in her eyes that the question was taking form, wouldn't remain unspoken for longer. She would ask, and he would have no answer. The spell will be broken. He wouldn't be the mysterious stranger with a secret to hide. He'd be just Draco. And as Draco he'd have no answers for her.
"Would you care to escort me to Mrs. Abney's party tomorrow? I daresay it will be more interesting than this one, and I'd enjoy the company."
He caught his breath. His hands shook imperceptibly, and he made a fist, tried to control the sudden impulse. There was nothing on his face, but he thought he saw her eyes softening, and for a second, fancied that she might, perhaps, be able to understand him.
"I'd be delighted," he murmured, in a voice much softer than usual.
She smiled. "See you tomorrow, then, Mr. Malfoy" was all she said and she didn't even look back as she headed for the exit, leaving behind her a trail of hope only Draco could see.
To be continued …
A/N: Because this grew from COCKTAIL smut to ZOMG full-blow Draco/Astoria. Ugh. I blame Celestine, mostly. She wanted it. I've got two chapters to go, one from her POV and the last one the promised SMUT. Hang in there!
