Of Writing and Honesty

Draco Malfoy stood outside the gates to his family's manor house, staring up the drive. He had already been standing there for a good five minutes, as always dreading what was to come. In the past five years since the Dark Lord's fall, Draco had spent as little time at the manor as possible. Frankly he couldn't understand why his parents didn't up sticks and sell the place, and had told them so on several occasions. They wouldn't budge however. Especially his father. The manor had been in their family for centuries, and Lucius Malfoy was a man who clung firmly to traditions. For Draco, the house represented a part of his life he yearned to be rid of.

Slowly he made his way towards the large front doors, and pushed them open. They didn't make the slightest sound as they swung inwards, and the entrance hall was deathly quiet. There was a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the hall and the stairs that led up to the first floor, and all though Narcissa had done her best to make the house warm and welcoming, Draco didn't feel at home. No one came to greet him, but Draco hadn't expected anyone to. His parents would be waiting in the drawing room, ready to wish him a happy birthday and present him with some meaningless gift that he neither needed nor wanted. On his way down the corridor, Draco looked in on the dining room. This room was also filled with light and glamour, but all Draco saw was Charity Burbage suspended in mid air over the long table, himself being commanded to torture Rowle, his aunt Bellatrix holding a knife to Hermione Granger's throat... He looked away, and continued towards the drawing room, without noticing that the table had been set for six. There were so many nightmares in this house, not one room where Draco didn't relive horrible memories when he walked in.

As he neared the drawing room, Draco heard voices. He stopped, and listened. One of the voices belonged to his mother, but it was a woman who answered, not his father. Draco had a mind to turn around and walk straight back out without announcing he was there. There was no one his mother could possibly have invited that he had any interest in seeing, and if he had known there would be visitors he never would have come. But of course, Narcissa was well aware of that, which was precisely why she had not mentioned to her son that they would have company. Draco sighed. Well, he was here now. Better just get it over with.

"Draco, darling!" his mother exclaimed as he entered the room.

"Mother." He nodded stiffly, slightly put off by Narcissa's hearty welcome. It was only for show – had they been alone the exchange would have been much more subdued. He now looked around at the other people in the room, and his stomach clenched. Oh mother, you didn't...

"You remember the Greengrasses, of course," Narcissa said, and Mr. Greengrass stood up.

"Yes," Draco said with a forced smile, "of course. It's nice to see you again."

"And you, my boy!" Mr. Greengrass boomed, shaking Draco's hand vigorously. He was a big man, both in height and in width – the buttons on his grey suit looked close to bursting. Draco continued on to greet Mrs. Greengrass, but contented himself with a slight nod at their daughter, Daphne. He sat down in an empty armchair as Narcissa and the Greengrasses continued the conversation they had been having when he walked in, and his thoughts quickly drifted to other things. He directed a scowl at his mother which she didn't see, before turning to look at his father.

"How are you, father?" he asked softly, without being overheard by the others.

"Good," Mr. Malfoy said curtly. "Good." He didn't look very good, Draco thought. His face was drawn, even paler than usual, and he looked a good 10 years older than he was. The Malfoy family's fall from grace had been very hard for him to accept.

"So Draco," Mr. Greengrass said, and Draco reluctantly turned his attention to the other's conversation. "Your mother tells us you're with the ministry now."

"Yes," Draco said, "Department of Magical Games and Sports." It wasn't really where he wanted to be, but it was the only place anyone had been willing to take him on. However, Draco knew he had been lucky to get anywhere near the ministry at all, and didn't resent the fact that he would have to work five times as hard as anyone else to prove his worth.

"Indeed!" Mr. Greengrass continued. "Working out well, is it?"

"Yes, it's all right."

The small talk continued for a while, until Narcissa announced that dinner would be served, and they all moved into the dining room. Draco managed to corner his mother as they exited the drawing room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

Narcissa immediately drew herself up and said haughtily "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're trying to set me up with Daphne, aren't you!"

"She's a very nice girl, Draco."

"Yeah. She's pretty and pure-blood."

An odd look crossed Narcissa's face at his words. "All I'm saying, Draco, is that I think it's high time you found yourself a decent girl, and I haven't seen you trying yourself." Before he could retort, she said "Come along, we must not keep our guests waiting," and walked ahead of him down the hall.

Draco had assumed Daphne felt just as awkward about the situation as he did. After all, they had been at school together, to a certain extent Draco would even have called her a friend. But during the meal it became painfully obvious that she was completely on board with this matchmaking scheme. She kept her eyes on him almost the entire time, and smiled brightly any time he glanced back. She also tried hard to engage him in conversation, without much luck. So instead she just kept up a steady stream of chatter about herself and her life, or what had become of various people they knew at school. Draco found it exceedingly dreary, and nodded slightly in acknowledgement any time she paused for breath. He had to admit that Daphne had become quite beautiful – a round face with big blue eyes and full lips, and shoulder-length golden curls. But he had never fancied Daphne at school, and couldn't imagine that he would now. She wasn't his type at all – frilly and shallow. Not particularly bright. And Draco liked a girl to have a bit of backbone, a bit of brains. At school, Daphne had been one of the girls who lived in Pansy Parkinson's shadow, and so Draco had gone for Pansy, the ring leader. He had never fancied her much either, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

The Greengrasses left late in the evening, giving high praise to the food and the company, and promising to return the invitation. Draco wondered if he would be able to get out of it. The manor was left in complete silence. The three Malfoys sat for a long time without talking. It was often like this when Draco visited. They didn't have much to talk about anymore.

"Well," Narcissa said, giving a forced smile. "Happy birthday." It was the first anyone had said about the occasion all evening. Draco thought he would have preferred it to be ignored.

"Thank you." Draco looked at his father, who gave him a curt nod. He knew that was all he could expect from the man. Another lengthy silence followed.

"What did you think of Daphne?" It was again Narcissa who broke the silence.

"Mother, it won't work."

Her face hardened. "Why are you so set on staying a bachelor? Daphne is a beautiful girl, and I found her very charming."

Draco sighed. "She's boring, mother."

"Well," Narcissa huffed, "if you don't appreciate my efforts, then find someone yourself. I want grandchildren, Draco."

"For Merlin's sake, I'm only 23. Weren't you 25 when you had me?"

"Yes," Narcissa said, "but we had already been married five years by then."

"Look mother, just be patient, all right? I'm sure I'll meet a nice girl soon enough, but it'll be on my own terms, and it'll be my choice. So just quit your matchmaking." They were all just empty words. Draco wasn't at all sure he would ever fall in love.

Draco apparated back to London a short time before midnight. He had bought himself a flat in a densely populated muggle area, away from the scrutinizing eyes of wizards. The foul looks he received all day at work were more than enough – Draco revelled in being able to greet his neighbours with common civility, without them knowing anything about him. Draco's belief in pure-blood supremacy had started to fade even before the Dark Lord fell, but living amongst muggles had all but obliterated it. He saw how they lived and how they managed without magic. He understood them now, in a way very few pure-blood wizards ever got a chance to. But even so – he still felt very detached from their world, he still had a strong feeling of "us" and "them".

Draco hadn't apparated right back to his flat, but a few streets over, where there was a bar he sometimes frequented. It was after all his birthday, and he wasn't going to spend it alone, dammit.

He didn't know the girl's name, and he didn't care. Draco might have been fine with bringing muggle girls home, but he wasn't about to date one. His parents cutting him off would only have been a minor blow, but he had just never felt much connection to any muggle. He lived in a different world, and occasional flings were nothing more than escapism.

Dear Draco
We have been invited to a gathering at the Greengrass house on Midsummer's Eve. Several of our closest acquaintances will be there. I think it will be the social event of the season, and I simply must insist that you attend, whatever your intentions towards Daphne might be.
With love, your mother

Draco stared at the letter in disgust. Not only was such a gathering close to being his worst nightmare, but him showing up would surely give Daphne the wrong impression. Whatever my intentions towards Daphne might be? Draco thought angrily. Hadn't he made that perfectly clear? Well, he wasn't going. No way.

The Greengrass house was indeed full of people. Draco felt like he was being suffocated. He stood near his parents with a glass of (undoubtedly expensive) champagne in his hand, sipping it and trying to look like he didn't want people to talk to him. It seemed to be working – or maybe nobody wanted to talk to him regardless. He didn't really mind either way, he was being left alone and that suited him. He was half listening to the conversation his parents were having with Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass a few feet away, which seemed to consist of nothing but his mother praising Draco and all his accomplishments, and the Greengrasses doing exactly the same about Daphne. Wondering vaguely where said girl was, Draco looked around the large living room he now found himself in. After a few moments he spotted her, talking animatedly to an elderly witch for a while before joining the next group of people with spectacularly fake enthusiasm. Draco at least thought it was fake. He had spent enough time around rich people to recognize someone who was desperately trying to make a good impression as a hostess. Suddenly she turned towards him and smiled brilliantly, before resuming her conversation with whoever they were. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. She was trying to impress him, showing him she would be the perfect trophy wife, whose only responsibility would be hosting the most glamorous parties and telling the house-elf when to clean the sheets. Was she really that thick? Couldn't she tell it was the last thing he wanted?

The room was lit up through a formidable set of glass doors leading out into the sun-filled garden, which stretched several hundred yards downwards in a gentle slope. Draco decided he should go outside and have a look around, before Daphne finished her obligatory conversation with all the guests and came looking for him. When he was sure Daphne had her back turned towards him, he crossed the room and slipped outside. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky, and even though it was by no means cold, there was a slight crispness to the air that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and wondered aimlessly down one of several garden paths. The Greengrass house wasn't quite as large as Malfoy Manor, and not quite as luxurious, but Draco found that the garden more than made up for it. The Greengrasses were one of the old pure-blood families and had old money, but their name had never commanded the same respect as the name of Malfoy always had. However, Draco suspected that the Greengrasses had recently surpassed them in wealth. They had managed to stay fairly neutral during the war, and had come through to the other side without so much as a stain to their name. But Draco didn't doubt that they had sympathized with the Dark Lord – or else they wouldn't have been quite so keen to have their daughter married off to a known Death Eater. Draco shivered. He hated to think of himself as that. The Dark Mark had not yet faded from his forearm, and he doubted very much that it ever would. It was a constant reminder of terrible misdeeds and deeply buried nightmares.

Deep in thought, Draco didn't notice that he'd reached the end of the garden until he suddenly found himself looking out onto a large green meadow. It had been shielded from view by a cluster of more wildly growing bushes and trees, unlike the perfectly manicured garden he had walked through to get there. He stopped walking and gazed out over the mass of green, the colour slightly faded by the low hanging sun. A rustle in the grass made him turn his head to the right, and he almost jumped out of his skin as he realized a girl was sitting on the ground, leaning against a thick tree trunk. She was looking up at him with mild curiosity, and with a stab of recognition, Draco remembered who she was.

"Hello," the girl said, smiling a little awkwardly. "Didn't expect to see anyone here."

"Neither did I." Draco couldn't believe he had forgotten that Daphne Greengrass had a sister. But surely, she hadn't been mentioned by Daphne or by her parents when they visited Malfoy Manor? And he hadn't heard a single word about her today, of that he was certain. Intrigued, Draco thought there must have been some scandal here he hadn't heard of – after all, he didn't give a damn about the pure-blood families' gossip anymore. "Astoria, isn't it?" he asked.

She smiled. "Wow, I'm impressed!"

"We did go to the same school for 5 years, you know," Draco said, as he felt the ghost of a smile creep up on his own lips. Frankly, he was surprised he could even momentarily have forgotten about this girl. If he was to look at her objectively, Astoria was nowhere near as beautiful as her older sister – but a man's taste in women is entirely subjective, and Draco thought Astoria was infinitely more attractive. She had long, brown hair which fell entirely straight all the way down to the ground on which she was sitting, framing a face with rather sharp features.

"Yes, I remember," she said. "I couldn't exactly have forgotten the most popular boy in Slytherin."

Draco snorted. "Yes, I did take up rather a lot of space, didn't I." Astoria didn't answer, only smiled. Draco shifted awkwardly, before saying "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all." Draco sat down on the grass about a foot away from her before she asked "Was the party boring you?"

"I suppose," he said. "I don't mean to insult your family or anything, but I didn't really want to come in the first place."

"So you won't be proposing to my sister, then?"

"Why, should I?" Draco asked sardonically, looking sideways at Astoria.

"You know, when I first heard my parents say you would be a good match for her, I agreed." Draco was sure he saw a faint hint of red in her cheeks as she continued. "But it seems you're not quite what I imagined."

"And what was that?"

"Stuck-up pure-blood git."

Draco laughed, vaguely aware that he couldn't remember the last time he had. "So a stuck-up pure-blood git is the perfect match for your sister?"

"Oh yes, definitely," Astoria said, a wicked smile spreading over her face.

"How do you know that I'm not, though?"

"Because," she said, "you wouldn't be sitting here talking to me if you were."

"Why's that?" Draco asked, wondering if he would now get the answer as to why her family had neglected to speak a word of her.

"For the obvious reason," Astoria said, with a slight look of confusion.

"I get the feeling that I've missed out on something," Draco said. "Is this the reason why you're hiding in the garden instead of being up at the house?"

Astoria stared at him, wide-eyed. "Have you been living under a rock for the past year?"

Draco couldn't help smiling. "It would definitely seem as such."

"Oh," Astoria said.

"You can't leave me hanging like that," Draco said when she failed to elaborate.

She looked at him. "You've heard of the book called Horrors at Hogwarts?" Draco nodded. "Have you read it?"

He shook his head. "I was there. I don't need reminding." The book, which had been wildly discussed both in the media and by Draco's co-workers, detailed the lives of a few Hogwarts students during the year the Death Eaters had occupied the school. It had been praised for it's unflinching and honest style in confrontation with difficult and controversial themes, but what had generated the most buzz was the fact that it was written anonymously. Draco looked at Astoria, who nodded.

"I wrote it, yes. It hasn't been publicly confirmed, but anybody with even slight knowledge of me or my family figured it out. I was never too bothered about staying anonymous, I just thought it would add an air of mystery."

"I'm afraid I don't really understand why this is relevant," Draco said. "I mean, congratulations on being a successful author and all, but... yeah, I'm a bit lost."

Astoria sighed, and started fiddling with her long hair. "I said some less than nice things about some influential people, friends of the family and so on."

"Including me?" Draco smiled ruefully.

Astoria blushed. "Nothing too bad about you specifically, though you are mentioned. Some fairly choice words about your family, yes."

"It was probably much less than any one of us deserved," Draco said darkly. "So I take it your parents weren't too pleased?"

Astoria laughed humourlessly. "They were furious. But that's not why I've brought shame upon the family name, to use my mother's words. No, the worst part was that I dared write about how I sought comfort with a boy. Well, two boys actually. And neither of them were Slytherins, and neither of them were pure-bloods." Astoria had started to pull tufts of grass up from the ground, her expression a mixture of anger and determination. "So forget about the fact that I was forced to perform the Cruciatus Curse on other students or any of the other horrible things I still have nightmares about, because oh! I had sex before I got married! And what respectable man could possibly want me now?" She forcefully threw a handful of grass into the air, and watched it as it drifted rather anticlimactically towards the ground.

"Merlin," Draco said, exhaling heavily the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "I'd better keep my mouth shut then if I'm to marry Daphne."

Astoria looked at him curiously, for she had heard the joking tone in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"I've been shagging muggle girls, haven't I! Bet they wouldn't be quite as keen to have me as a son-in-law if they knew that!" For a moment Astoria stared at him in shock, then burst into raucous laughter. Draco just grinned. Just a few minutes ago, he would have considered this one of his most deeply buried secrets, and here he was, having just confessed it to a girl he had never talked to before. It felt nice though, to have lightened the dark mood that seemed to have settled over them. And besides, Astoria was a lot prettier when she laughed...

"Imagine the scandal if that came out!" Astoria said, once her laughter had subsided into giggles.

"Trust me, I have," Draco said. "Maybe I should marry a muggle, just to see the looks on people's faces."

Astoria grinned. "Then I will sit in the front row at your wedding."

"You're more than welcome to. I doubt very much my parents will be sitting there."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching the sun as it descended ever lower in the sky. Draco felt tension leave his body that he could hardly remember ever being without, and sighed contentedly. He thought he saw Astoria glance at him, but when he glanced back she was leaning her head against the tree trunk, eyes closed and smiling. For several minutes they watched the sunset, and there was silence except for the buzzing of insects and the twittering of birds. Draco tried to keep himself from staring at Astoria too openly, but couldn't refrain from stealing glances ever so often. He wanted to get the conversation going again, but couldn't think of anything witty to say. After a while though, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"So," he said, clearing his throat slightly, "what are you up to these days? Working, or... writing maybe?"

Astoria shook her head. "I'm not really doing anything. I stay home and keep out of the rest of the family's way."

"Doesn't that get boring?"

"Yeah, I'm climbing the walls in frustration. Which is why I want to go travelling."

"Really? Where to?"

She smiled. "Anywhere. I made quite a bit of money off that book, so I don't need my parents' permission. I'm not going to tell them, I'll just leave a note."

"Sounds brilliant."

"You could come with me."

Astoria was looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Draco didn't know if she was joking or not. So he just smiled and said "Maybe I will." There was a pause, and before it could start to stretch Draco said "Do you think you'll continue writing?"

"No," Astoria said, "I don't have another book in me."

"Why's that?"

She shrugged. "I might have discovered that I'm a decent writer, but I don't have imagination like that. Don't contradict me," she said, obviously reading Draco's expression perfectly, "I'm not just being modest. Everything I wrote in that book was true. I doubt my life will turn out interesting enough to make enough material for a second."

"You could write about your travels?"

Astoria snorted. "I'm sure my diaries will be very nice and nostalgic reading when I'm old, but no one else would be interested in that."

"I'm sure I would be."

"Don't be silly," she said, then grinned at Draco. "Besides, you'll be there, so you won't have to read about it."

"I will?"

"You're coming with me, aren't you?"

"Oh," Draco smiled, "right." He still didn't know whether she was serious, so he decided to deflect the conversation with a joke. "Maybe you could write about me."

Astoria chuckled slightly, but then her brow furrowed. Seconds later, her expression became one of undisguised excitement. "I do realize you weren't being serious," she said, "but please please let me write about you!"

Draco looked at her in shock. "No!" he said, "absolutely not!"

"But you've had the most interesting life! Horrible sometimes, yes, I realize that, but if some of the rumours I've heard are anywhere near the truth, your story will make mine look like a children's book."

"They're just rumours," Draco mumbled, looking at the ground. He knew full well though that several of the nastiest rumours that circulated about him were the ones that held the most truth.

"Even more reason!" Astoria said. "Cut through all the lies and half-truths, and show everyone that you've changed." She added in an undertone, "like you've shown me."

Draco sighed and rubbed his face. "Astoria, I can't. My life is under so much scrutiny already, I really don't want to put myself out there. I can handle the rumours. People knowing the truth would be worse."

"How about this," Astoria said, looking forcefully determined. "We write the book, we publish it, and then we leave. We go far away, to... Tasmania!"

"Tasmania?" Draco asked, momentarily forgetting what the argument was about. "Why specifically Tasmania?"

"I've always wanted to go there," Astoria said, "but it doesn't really matter where. South-Africa, Japan, New York! Rome! Bloody Iceland, so long as it's not here!" Draco had to smile at her enthusiasm, but he still shook his head. "Why not?" Astoria asked.

"It would kill my father."

"...Oh." This time it was Astoria who broke the silence that followed. "Is that the only reason?"

Draco thought about it. "I suppose if I didn't have others to think about, I could have been convinced."

"Forgive me if this sounds horribly cynical," Astoria said carefully, "but it takes time to write a book. We could start now, and if we finish it, we could just keep it between us for a while."

Draco smiled slightly to indicate he had not taken offence, but he didn't answer right away. What was it about this girl? he thought. What was it about her that made him even contemplate such a degree of honesty? What was it about her that made him want to be honest for the first time in his life? "It would just be between the two of us?" he asked, and Astoria beamed.

"Yes, of course! I won't breathe a word unless you want me to."

"...All right then. I'll do it."

"Fantastic!" Astoria cried, and immediately conjured a notebook and a quill out of thin air.

"What, right now?" Draco asked in surprise.

"Sure, why not?" Astoria said, opening the notebook.

"Oh. OK." Draco lay down on the grass and put his hands behind his head. "I don't know where to begin."

"Wherever you like."

He closed his eyes, and images started to flash before them, in no particular order. There was so much he wanted to forget, so much he thought he would never tell anyone – but the prospect of telling Astoria felt liberating. She felt safe. He heard her shifting next to him, and was suddenly very aware of warm breath on his face. Draco tensed, but didn't open his eyes. Then he felt a pair of soft lips press gently against his own. When she sat up again, his eyes flickered open and found hers.

"What was that for?" he asked softly.

"I just thought I'd get it out of the way," she said, smiling very gently. "Because I will have fallen in love with you by the time you finish talking anyway."

Draco chuckled. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then," he said smiling, "I suppose I'd better start, hadn't I? Do you have any suggestions?"

"The beginning is always good."

"All right, then. The beginning." He took a deep breath. "My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I was born on the 5th of June in 1980..."

The End