Title: Ferret Boy and the Mouthy Little Brat
Author: AshLight
Summary: Snippets of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass growing up together. A miserable time is had by all.
Category: General/Romance
Rating: PG
1.
Today's the day for another visit from some more friends of his parents – pureblood and practically rolling in it, from what he's figured out from listening in at keyholes. He's also guessed, from painful experience, that they'll have at least one simpering, big-eyed daughter for his parents to appraise and him to make – urgh – 'polite conversation' with, and he's only eight, so why bother? He'd rather be playing Quidditch than talking to some stupid girls any day of the week
Wincing as his mother rakes an ivory comb through his white blond hair, the teeth digging deep into his skull until he's pretty sure she's drawn blood, Draco fiddles sullenly with the smart black robes he's been forced into the occasion, done up right to under his chin and so itchy they might as well have been covered in fleas from a Mudblood. The reflection in the mirror is not one he recognises. It's only when his mother grabs him sharply by the shoulder and steers him into the hall that he exhales with something akin to relief; at least it'll only be this stupid family who sees this. The sons of his dad's friends, Crabbe and Goyle, might be thick, but he's pretty sure even they would laugh at him like this, dressed up to the nines and his hair plastered down tightly against his skin.
Stupid family.
His dad, as tall and imposing as ever, taps him briskly behind the knees with his cane, a gesture that makes Draco laugh even though it stings. When he's as tall and powerful as his dad, he's already decided, he'll dress in nothing but black and green and carry a real silver cane. "Now then, Draco, remember to behave," he drawls carelessly. Dad's never cared about all this stuff, which is just brilliant. "You know how much your mother enjoys her little parties."
He just wishes Mother wouldn't make him enjoy her parties. Still, he grins dutifully, ducking his head as Mother turns to glare at them warningly. She always talks about how she was a Black before she was a Malfoy, and has her own pride to hold up. It's one of those things he's never understood.
"They're here." Wincing as the crane flicks briefly against the back of his legs again, Draco slouches as slowly as he can towards the door. Maybe, if he takes a long time, they'll have gone by the time he gets there… "Draco!"
Maybe not.
When he finally does get to the fireplace that the visitors have emerged from (slouching, scowling, and listening to hissed threats from his mother with half an ear), they aren't quite the demons he's been picturing in his mind. A father, mother, two daughters – again, urgh – and a little baby. He prays to whatever merciful god is up there that he isn't forced to hold it. At least the girls are looking as horrified as he is – well, the older one is, anyway. The younger of the two is busy hiding behind her mother's legs.
Honestly. Girls.
Draco takes an involuntary step closer to his father.
"Welcome," says his mother, in a voice that is ethereal and soft, and quite unlike the one she's been using on him all week. "Will you come into the drawing room? And this must be Daphne…Astoria…"
As his mother begins to coo over the baby – that at least, he knows is pretence; his mother seems to have a natural fear of anything younger than two. He's sure Dobby cared for him for the first three years of his life – the younger of the two hangs back, peers out at him from beneath an overgrown fringe. Her eyes are big and dark, and for a moment regard him in terrified curiosity for a second before one little hand dips into her pocket and brings out a bag of sticky Chocoballs. After a few moments of doubtful anxiety, where she glances between her sweets and him for several horrified seconds, and then picks out a particularly gooey specimen and holds it out to him.
For a few seconds, Draco isn't entirely convinced. Her hand is sticky.
Nevertheless, a sweet's a sweet.
Tastes nice too. He can tell he's got strawberry mousse clotting up around his lips, and he knows his mother will be furious for spoiling his appetite, but nevertheless he nibbles eagerly at the sugary, sickly-sweet ball. It's only when he's halfway through that he glanced up and catches the little girl looking at him. There's the merest hint of a grin on her face.
For the first time since he's entered the room, Draco manages a little smile back.
2.
"Shut up."
"You – you look – "
"Shut up."
Tugging at her dress, her expression one of indescribable torment, Astoria glares back at the boy, who's currently rolling around on the drawing room rug, laughing his socks off. How could Mother make her wear pink?
"You look really, really stupid."
"I know!" She wails, eyes screwing up in utter disgust. As well as having to wear the world's most hideous dress in the entire wizarding world, complete with a ridiculous puffy skirt and a big bow at the back, her mother has charmed her hair into ringlets, tying miniature pink bows into every pristine curl. "I look like a…a milkshake!"
Draco merely snorts, before managing to prop himself up on his elbows and observe her carefully. "If we put some chocolate sprinkles and cherries in your hair we could pass you off as a strawberry ice-cream sundae," he snickers, mouth splitting into a broad grin. "Florean Fortescue could use you to advertise his shop."
"Shut up you horrible boy!"
It's not as if he has anything to complain about, she decides sullenly, glowering back at him as he dissolves into another fit of giggles. He's in smart, bottle green robes, and alright, his hair's been combed back more severely than usual, but no-one's making him wear pink ribbons in his hair.
She doesn't like Draco Malfoy, she decides with the aggrieved air of one heavily insulted as she folds her arms with a pout, and she's never liked him. Admittedly he makes her laugh when their mothers drag them over to each other's houses, and he lets her have a go on his Comet Two Sixty when his father's not watching, but he's still a horrible, stupid boy. No amount of sneaking chocolate cakes out of Malfoy Manor's kitchen can make up for…for this. Sniffing, she turns her head to avoid watching him roll around on the floor in mirth, and once more attempts to make a neat little curtsey, just like Mother's taught her.
He's laughing even more.
Just as Draco's laughter reaches near-hysterics the drawing room door opens to reveal Daphne, wearing a stain blue dress and a disapproving frown. Astoria burns with jealousy to see that her sister is not wearing one frill, flounce or ribbon. Some things just aren't fair.
Daphne casts a disdainful stare at Draco. She's never liked her friend, and that surprises Astoria; they have so much in common. Laughing at her, for one thing. "Astoria, if he laughs until he's sick then you have to clean it up."
Daphne's really not funny.
"Anyway, I just thought I'd tell you that the guests are arriving, and Mother's expecting us down for drinks. Hurry up."
As her sister turns to leave, Astoria promptly casts herself onto the chaise-longue and covers her head in a pillow. Why her? As Draco's giggles begin to subside, she considers running and hiding in the cellar. It'll be comfortable – she's sure Draco will bring her something to eat.
"Come on; you heard her." A pair of arms wraps around her waist and promptly pulls her up onto her feet, before one hand condescendingly pats her curls. "It's just one Ministry party, 'Tor."
"Easy for you to say," she sniffles glumly. "I can't go down there looking like this, Draco, I'll die."
"You're such a drama queen. No-one can die of embarrassment, you'd have kicked the bucket hours ago looking like that." Still snickering quietly behind the back of her hand, Draco eyes her distressed face with suspicion and slings an arm companionably around her shoulders. "Look, if anyone laughs at you I'll hex them for you. Alright?"
It's not alright, it never will be, because the social stigma of being eight years old and forced to walk into a room of grown-ups wearing a frilly pink dress is too much to bear – but she supposes that, for one night, having a friend to back her up will be ok. He's not too bad, after all, for a boy.
Plus, Draco knows all the coolest hexes and jinxes already. She's kind of hoping someone does laugh so she can see one of them in action.
3.
"I don't see why I can't come."
He hasn't even realised the girl has entered his bedroom until he turns around and sees Astoria fingering through his brand new Charms textbook, an expression of extreme wistfulness on her face. With Daphne going as well, he supposes she's going to get lonely soon. Astoria's always been the sort to want friends surrounding her.
It's pretty sad, really.
"You're too young," Draco points out fairly. Only yesterday when they were all practising Quidditch she fell off her broom and wouldn't stop crying, no matter how many Chocolate Frog cards they gave her. She'd be eaten alive at Hogwarts, he decides suddenly, she's just that type. "Anyway, you can't even use your wand."
Jaw juts out, arms fold. "I can. I used the Trip Jinx on Blaise when he visited, didn't I?"
That was true – it had earned him a kick for allowing a little girl to tag around after them as well. He, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise…they'd have been the perfect gang if it wasn't for Astoria following them everywhere.
He wasn't going to miss it.
"Will you all write to me?"
"No." Write to a girl – a little girl two years younger than him? She must have been joking. But, as Astoria's face fell, he rolled his eyes expressively, making a face at him. "I'll send you some Hogsmede sweets, alright?"
Suddenly, one little hand latched onto his arm, nearly pulling him off balance. "I'll miss all of you."
It's only by a skilful twist that he detaches from the vice like grip. He won't miss her, of course; it's only out exhaustion from his mother's nagging that he even puts up with the child after all. And she's only a little girl.
He can't wait to get away from her.
4.
"You're different." He is as well, paler, if that was possible, a little taller, and he scowls a lot more. Unlike Daphne, who came home fairly buzzing with all the things she'd done and seen at Hogwarts, Draco had got off the train sulking. How could he do that, when he'd had his first year at Hogwarts? It didn't make sense. "Did you get picked for the House Team?"
This, she thinks, is sure to cheer him up, but his sulk only deepens further, arms folding in a threatening gesture. "No." Draco grumbles, making a face. "Harry Potter did, just because of his stupid scar, and his stupid broomstick – everyone thinks he's so great – big Quidditch hero – " Trailing off, he glowers at the ground for a moment, before brightening up, a wide, triumphant smirk on his face. "But I'm going to play Seeker on the Slytherin team this year. Did you know that?"
She shakes her head politely, and listens as he raves about the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One and how his father's put in an order for him already, and won't that show that big-headed show-off Potter? He'll show her as soon as it's delivered, and maybe even let her have a go; and this'll make him the best player on the entire field. Potter just won't have a chance.
Boys, she decides, are crazy.
5.
There's a pain in her knees from where she's tried to drag her suitcase through the train by herself, a crick in her neck from looking for Daphne, and there's a possibility she might start crying. But she won't, because this is her first day at Hogwarts, and she's old enough to be brave now, and she won't start crying –
And then a wand smacks into the back of her head, nearly pitching her forward, and she honestly feels she might start sobbing any second now.
"Watch where you're walking." The girl holding the wand snarls, somehow looking as if the entire episode's her fault. She's petite and dark, and Astoria doesn't know why, but she has the sudden urge to hit her.
Maybe because she's tired and ill-tempered and Daphne's ran off with her friends without even saying goodbye, but she glowers back up at the girl. "You poked me with your wand." She points out sullenly.
It's not until the girl's hands jam down on her hips, eyes narrowing darkly that she realises that, while she's quite petite, she's still bigger than her. And as for the girl behind her, the one that looks like a hag – well, it's no wonder Astoria backs up until her back hits the side of the carriage. "Excuse me?"
She's dead.
"I only said – "
"Well well; what's going on here?" It's a new, pleasantly deep voice drawling out above the riot of students that catches her attention, and both she and the girl turn around with a start to see Draco Malfoy swaggering down the corridor of the train, blond hair flicked carelessly out of his eyes. "Not bullying first years, are we Pansy?"
So that's Pansy Parkinson? She's heard Daphne talk about her fellow Slytherin before, but she never pictured someone so…nasty looking. And touchy. Blinking in confusion, a flood of relief fills her as she sees Daphne out of the corner of her eye, and her big sister winks at her. No harm can come to her, not when she's under the protection of her big sister. And Draco, of course.
He's so much taller than she remembered, so that the top of her forehead barely touches his shoulder and she has to crane her head to see the familiar flash of grey eyes. And as for Crabbe and Goyle – well, she's surprised their heads don't knock against the carriage roof. Awe-struck, surrounded by the giants that used to flood her family home every summer, Astoria is empowered enough to flash a triumphant glare at the girl.
Draco must have caught the smirk that she directed at his girlfriend, as a matching, equally wide grin spreads broadly across his lips, and he loops an arm companionably around her shoulders. The pressure makes her stagger a little, but at the same time gives her enough confidence to lift her head up high. "Right little Slytherin you are." He laughs, leading her into the carriage that he and his friends have already occupied. "You will be in Slytherin, won't you?"
"Of course she will." Daphne interrupts before she could answer, slinging her case into the rack. She gives her dark hair a contemptuous flick. "What kind of stupid question is that?"
It is a stupid question, because of course where would the daughter of a proud, pure-blood family go, especially when the elder sister is already in Slytherin? Effectively put in her place, Astoria is left to ponder the question as she sits down in between her sister and Draco, content to watch the older students play Exploding Snap. She wants to be Slytherin, of course she does, and yet there's a tiny little part of her that's frightened by the dark glamour that the teenagers hold as they laugh and sneer together.
When the Sorting Hat bellows 'RAVENCLAW' throughout the Great Hall, she freezes in her seat a split-second too long, enough to prompt giggles, and then sprints to her seat to hide behind two great, hulking fifth-years, her head in her hands. Her cheeks are flaming, knees trembling; but she's still shocked to feel a small, burning flame of relief at her core.
Surprisingly, when she leans over to try and spot the Slytherin table, it's not her cousins, who are talking urgently behind their hands, or her sister, whose face has drained of all colour, but Draco Malfoy whose attention she catches. His mouth has dropped open, his eyes are wide, and he only meets her stare for a couple of seconds before abruptly turning away.
She supposes everything's going to change now, anyway.
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tbc....please review!