DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER BOOK OR MOVIE SERIES. THOSE BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING.

Welcome to my first DracoxAstoria Greengrass fanfiction. My goal for this story? To finish it. I'm remarkably flighty when it comes to writing stories and I usually can never finish one, so it will be up to you readers and my very weak will to keep this story going.

I was previously writing under the name MidnightDragon123, but I recently changed by pen-name to Medomai. This is an AU story that takes place in Draco's 5th year and Astoria's 3rd year because Astoria is 2 years younger than Draco.

Enjoy the story!

Read and Review.

Prologue

"So, Ms. Astoria, I have a task for you."

"And what exactly might that be?"

"I'd like you to persuade a certain Draco Malfoy to join the light side."

That conversation had occurred almost three years ago.

I let out a loud sigh that echoed off the dungeon walls of the Slytherin Common Room. I'd almost thought the odd man had been joking with me.

Well, I'd thought so until I saw those strange eyes.

Opal white, threads of red, blue, and green cutting through the irises, encircling the island of black that made up his pupil.

Astonishingly beautiful. And grimly serious.

My eyes fell to the sofa, a fancy thing made up of green velvet cushions and a frame of silver curlicues that glinted coldly, gaining the appearance of silvery snakes from the weak, greenish light that strained its way through the windows.

I forced my hand, clenched nervously around a brown suitcase, to open, letting my luggage drop to the ground with a thud muffled by the lavishly black-carpeted expanse of the floor.

Sitting myself down on the sofa, I hesitantly moved a cushion with a large "S" sewed onto it, putting it on top of a ebony-black table near the fireplace.

"Pleaseno-pleaseno-pleaseno…"

I murmured as a sort of mantra to myself as I examined the dark green fabric.

There.

It was still there.

A splash of faded black, barely visible on the velvet and partially hidden by cushions, but it was most definitely there.

I drew out a wand from the pocket of my robes, examining its silvery wood in the firelight for a moment before I tapped it against the black stain.

"Finite Incatatem," I whispered, staring intently at it.

The black stain remained stubbornly where it was, as it had three years ago, when I'd spilled it there at the intrusion of a stranger.

"Evanes-"

"You know, my dear, I really wouldn't do that if I were you. You'll make the entire sofa disappear."

A tanned hand reached from behind me to push my wand down.

I took in a breath through my nose, willing my body to resist the impulse to whip around and shoot a spell at the sudden intruder.

From experience, I knew it wouldn't do much.

"Damian," I stated calmly.

The same stranger from three years ago. He'd appeared in the room and I'd spilled the ink, staining the sofa.

An ink stain. The only sign that he'd ever appeared in the room.

This was a mere repeat of what had happened three years ago.

But this time, I was determined to be in charge.

I slid my wand back into my pocket and turned around slowly to find a pair of ageless, opal eyes staring back at me, exaggerated by his wild shock of black hair.

"Since when have you been interested in the welfare of furniture?"

The man shrugged at this.

"I thought you'd like to know. The stain is perfectly real, by the way, it's not a spell," he grinned at this, and leaned in, peering into my eyes as if searching for some unknown quality in them, "but you knew that, didn't you?"

I glared at him, my hand reaching for my wand.

"Stop it."

He leaned back, lounging on the sofa with a look on his face that reminded me of a cat after a satisfying meal.

"Still the same as ever," he declared with an amused smile on his face, "Perfect."

"Wha-," I quickly closed my mouth, not bothering to ask my question. His answers always led to even more questions and never really sated my curiosity. In fact, his answers had some semblance to riddles.

Damian tapped a slender finger against his mouth, his grin widening.

"You're learning. Why didn't you return sooner?"

I tapped my fingers against my leg agitatedly, already crammed in the sofa with him lounging on one side of it.

"I didn't see any reason to."

He stood up in one swift motion, something I was thankful for since he had been taking up at least three quarters of the space on the sofa.

"You know," he commented, "if you had returned a year earlier, you would have had a thirty percent chance of dancing with a certain little dragon."

He tugged me up and out of the sofa before I had a chance to respond, and grasping both of my hands in his, he began an awkward waltz.

I let myself stiffen in an attempt to stop him.

"Instead," he said, continuing in a laughing voice while circling me in something resembling an old-fashioned Renaissance dance, "you went with a freckle-faced klutz of a boy by the name of Lucas Tollens. But of course, your Seer abilities showed you the night before that you'd go with Lucas Tollens-"

He attempted to force me into a twirl as he said this.

"-so of course, you tried to stop it from happening by rushing out of the ballroom as Lucas Tollens came in-"

He switched into a tango.

"-but you tripped on the carpet and fell flat on your face, which resulted in a trip to the infirmary. And once you returned from the infirmary, your Headmistress felt it was a 'pity' you didn't have a dancing partner and paired you with the only remaining boy left for all of the others had been taken by the Veela-descendents and the others while you'd been gone. And of course, the only remaining boy was Lucas Tollens, so you danced with him at your school's headmistress's command. Your prophecy came true though you tried to stop it. Am I correct?"

I felt a pang of annoyance as he bowed deeply with a know-it-all smirk on his face.

I attempted to hide my scowl, bending my head as I pretended to brush back a strand of my dark, brown-black hair.

As always, he'd succeeded in maneuvering the conversation and revealing the little things I tried to hide.

I sat back down, pretending to smooth the creases in my robes.

"Fine, you were right. You win, I lose. You must have come for something. Stop playing games and spit it out," I grumbled.

Silence reigned through the Slytherin Common Room as I listened to the ticking of the clock.

One second…two seconds…three seconds…

From what I knew of the figure, he couldn't resist being told he was right and he loved winning. On the other hand, I hated losing so I used the method as infrequently as possible. But for today, I had no choice. I had a topic I wanted to discuss with him, and if I let Damian go on, he would spend the entire day talking in circles before he finally got to his point.

"Well, yes," he admitted as I looked up, "there was something I wanted. But I was going to get to the point some time soon."

"Gods have no time," I told him evenly, meeting his unearthly eyes once more, eyes that could belong to no man, "are you going to tell me what exactly you're god of this time?"

"Shouldn't you be able to guess?" he said grinning, "But of course not, if you knew, that would spoil the fun. Besides, if you knew, you'd never accomplish your little task."

I bit my lip, my heart beginning to pound, I knew exactly what he was going to ask. The same question he'd asked three years ago.

"I want you to try coercing Draco Malfoy onto the light side again," he declared.

Ah, yes, the one thing I'd been trying to avoid.

Damian had come to me before with that exact same task. And I'd ran. I had convinced my parents that I wanted to go to Beauxbaton's for a "change of scenery", I'd packed a suitcase I had unpacked in the Slytherin dorm the previous day, and I'd hopped on the first ship to Beauxbaton's. And now, three years later, I was back.

"If I succeed, he'll die," I stated calmly, my head buzzing as the vision came again.

I took in a sharp breath, suddenly in the vision, looking above it.

A blonde-haired boy with terrified grey eyes, hands manacled behind his back, angular, pale face bruised and scraped.

"No! Y-you don't understand, it isn't me, I-I didn't do a thing! They're the traitors, over there-"

He moved his head in an attempt to point at two fully-clad Death Eaters standing on the side.

"Clearly, he's a traitor. Look at his sniveling. No worthy son of mine. He's joined the side of Harry Potter."

An aristocratic voice came from beneath the hood.

"Yes, clearly."

The voice of Bellatrix came from beneath the other hood.

"WAIT! Have mercy! I-it isn't me, I swear!"

The boy shuffled forward, lank, platinum hair covering his face.

"Please!"

I would've cried if I'd had a physical form at that moment. Instead, I attempted to turn away, tear my Sight from the vision-

I gasped, blinking for a minute and trying to force the vision away. It was even clearer than it was three years ago. I turned my head, attempting to look at something else, to forget it. Damian looked at me calmly as I rubbed my eyes and sat up again. It was fine, I thought as I became dizzy and almost drowsy again. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, I'm not going to-

I was back in the vision, watching once more from my bird's eye view. No bodily form of mine, just my mind, watching. Coldness enveloped me, though I had no arms to rub.

"LIAR!" the Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, roared.

He came forward, and raising a pale arm from the black robe, he hit the boy, backhanding him. Then, immediately, he stepped back, as if in regret, lowering his head, visibly quivering from underneath the shroud.

"That was unnecessary, Lucius," a cold voice said, the owner of the voice hidden in the shadows except for a pair of red, serpentine eyes.

A hand slid out from beneath the shadows as Lucius stammered an apology, and it connected with Draco's back, sending him stumbling a mere inch away from the horrific creature looming above.

I squinted to make it out, my heart doing a little lopsided shudder for some reason as I recognized it. A Dementor.

"PLEASE, NO!" he shrieked, beyond all pride now.

The creature, composed of rags and a hood, looked at the red eyes questioningly, large, open mouth moving to make a hollow, sucking sound.

The owner of red eyes emitted a cackling sound that might have been laughter.

"Oh no," he said, chuckling, "no, you can't have me. Nor the other two. They are under my protection….But this young man here is all yours…"

"NO!" Draco Malfoy screamed again.

He felt in his pocket for a wand, and finding none, he scrabbled on the ground for a random stick, lifting a small one in the air.

"EXPECTO PATRONUS! EXPECTO PATRONUS!"

The cackling sound filled the air once more.

"Hmm.. It seems he's already gone mad. Might as well have mercy on him and bestow the Dementor's Kiss."

"Damn it!" he howled, dropping the stick and sobbing, curled up on the ground, "Oh God, NO! Please no!"

My heart ached. There were gods, but I doubted they'd come for just one mortal.

Bellatrix turned away and Lucius Malfoy fidgeted, pale fingers emerging from a sleeve to rub a piece of black fabric between two fingers.

Then the Dementor enveloped him in its shroud and a sucking sound (which rather sickeningly and ironically sounded almost like the innocent sound of a greedy child sucking loudly on a lollipop) was heard.

A loud scream…and then nothing.

A popping sound was heard as the dementor released Draco, dropping him into the mud as it left, tattered cloth fluttering behind it as it faded away into the night.

Draco lay still in the mud, almost lifelessly, though his chest was still visibly moving up and down as he breathed.

His eyes were dead. Before they had been cold, unbelievably cold and stony, but they had still had that small spark of life. Yet now, they had lost that, appearing now like lackluster pebbles, a dull sheen over them.

Lucius Malfoy moved to pick him up, but the same bleached white hand stopped him.

"Leave him," Voldemort hissed, "let the Aurors find him. He is of no use to us anymore."

I felt like choking on my tears at the cruelty. Take me away from this scene, I prayed. Please, please, please…. I don't want to see anymore of this.

I imagined myself turning away from the scene of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix as they now turned, heads bowed, to leave, of Nagini snaking over Draco's lifeless body. Turn away…and close your Inner Eye.

I made a half-choking, half-gasping sound as I opened my eyes, feeling around me to assure I'd returned.

Damian watched me with interest, exotic eyes boring into mine once more.

"Your Sight has gotten stronger," he remarked, "some formal training and you would be a remarkable Seer. There's even a chance you might go down in history. That is, of course, if you make all of the right choices…"

I scowled at him. One of Damian's gifts as a god was natural Seer abilities. Except, unlike me, he could See people's possible fates and possible choices leading to that fate by simply looking into their eyes, and, he didn't get horrible headaches after doing so.

"Didn't you hear me?" I asked, "I said, Draco Malfoy will die if I turn him to the light side."

"Yes, I did hear you," Damian replied absentmindedly, "so will you take the task or not?"

Stupid god. Of course he doesn't care. He doesn't know what it means to die. He's immortal. No sense of time, no sense of life and death.

"But look at the alternative," he said, before stating, "if you don't, your entire family and many of the friends you care about will die. Harry Potter will lose because Draco Malfoy will defeat him when he becomes a Death Eater. Voldemort will enslave the entire world and eventually go ahead and conquer the gods as well. He will become the one and only god. Everything will die without the other gods to keep it in order."

He stated the facts out so calmly, as if he was a mere logician arranging his information to solve a math problem or for a game of chess and not as if he was playing with millions of people, gods, and creatures' fates.

I shuddered, halfway between the emotions of fear and anger.

"Why me?" I heard myself demand, "Why can't the gods handle this situation? They obviously don't care about people's lives!"

"Because," he replied, playing with what looked to be the fire-poker, "if the gods interfere in any way, shape, or form, it'll only lead to disaster. If Hades, my half-brother, interferes by luring him into the Underworld, the end towards that is he will escape fifteen years later, kill Hades, take his place, and overthrow Voldemort to become the world's ruler. Same bad fate. I've traced every line of fate I could find and the only one where Draco Malfoy becomes good and Harry Potter defeats Voldemort is when you interfere"

He pointed the poker towards me with a casual swing.

"But of course, there are only two good lines of fate and it'll depend on the choices you make," he added.

"Can't you just tell me what to do?"

He shook his head.

"If I do that, we'll end up with one of the endings where Voldemort takes over. You've got to rely on your instincts."

I clenched my hands.

"So basically, you're asking for me to kill someone!" I shouted angrily.

I was tempted to swing a fist at him and see if it made a bruise on his face or not.

"Hey, it's either that or millions of people die," he eyed me for a minute, "there is also one out of the two good fate lines where he doesn't die."

I felt like crying.

Kill a million people and let Draco Malfoy, no matter how bad he is, live. Let a million people live and let Draco Malfoy, who has gone to the good side, die.

It didn't seem fair to let an innocent boy die, no matter how mean it was.

I trembled as I took in a breath.

But to let my family die, to let millions of others die….

I felt a warm tear run down my cheek as I looked up, hoping he'd offer another option.

Why me? Why did I have to make this decision?

He stared at me thoughtfully.

"Choose, Astoria Greengrass," he stated solemnly, truly appearing like a god for the first time. Uncaring of mortal lives, above mortal luxuries, the one who decided fates and couldn't care less about what happened.

I'm sorry Draco Malfoy, I'm so sorry…

"Fine," I heard myself say bitterly, letting the tears drip down my cheeks, "I'll do it."

Please review.

Helpful criticism is appreciated, in fact, I encourage it. I find it extremely touching that people would take the time to correct mistakes or make suggestions to help me improve my writing.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue. Feel free to ask questions, I'll do my best to respond either through PM or in the next chapter.

Also, if this is Minkx reading, please stop asking for spoilers. You may know me in real life, but I assure you you'll be happier if you just read the actual story. You're just spoiling the story for yourself.