Hello again! I took a small hiatus from my Neville/Hannah story to get this story out because it would not stop nagging me. I hope you enjoy, Draco's a very interesting character to write and I hope I did him justice!
This is a one-shot turned two-shot since it was so long ;) Smutty stuff comes in the second chapter. Astoria is spelled ASTERIA, as JK Rowling used that spelling on the Black family tree. Thanks for reading!
Draco found it odd that he seemed to have lost the least in the Second Wizarding War, yet he felt like he was suffering the most.
Sure, the Malfoys had barely avoided Azkaban, which was definitely a plus. That didn't change the fact that his father had definitely lost his place on the social ladder, and was unable to find steady employment because of his past. His mother would never leave the house to work, so Malfoy found himself donating some of his paycheck to his parents whenever he got the chance. The International Magical Cooperation didn't play millions of galleons, but he was living comfortably in a small flat in London by himself. Goyle was dealing with his imprisoned parents, whereas Blaise had a comfy, spacious manor to live in at home—he had no interest in sharing a cramped apartment with Draco.
For his own sanity, he'd moved out shortly after completing his education. It was a shame really, because he'd been looking forward to someday inheriting the manor that he'd grown up in. However, everywhere he turned in that house, he was reminded of something dreadful. It was like he could sense every footstep the Dark Lord had taken in his house. There were days when he did a double take, thinking that he'd heard Hermione Granger shrieking in the other room as his aunt tortured her. Every once in a while, he'd shudder as he walked past the dining room, thinking about the time the Muggle Studies professor had been killed right there in front of him.
His childhood home had been tainted for him, and much to his mother's dismay, he had to leave.
Draco preferred being on his own, actually. It was nice to just kick back and relax with a cool butterbeer after a long day at work, and for a while it really helped. However, as more and more of the former Death Eaters were thrown into Azkaban by Potter and his gang of former Gryffindors, Draco found the nightmares returning again.
Some nights he was just reliving particularly terrifying moments from the war, yet other nights he dreamt that various hooded figures were chasing him. The worst was when the Dark Lord himself was chasing him—he was always yelling at him, telling him that it didn't matter if Dumbledore was dead, Draco had still failed and he was going to pay. No matter what the dream, he almost always awoke, yelling and panting and sweating like he'd just run a marathon.
It didn't help with the ladies at all, that was for sure.
At first his conquests were some girls he'd had his eye on when he'd been in Hogwarts. He'd grown tired of Pansy long ago, and she'd moved on to Goyle anyways (bless that man, he'd actually been worried about their friendship when he broke the news that he was dating Pansy—Draco couldn't have been happier to be rid of her, honestly) but he managed to have some pretty memorable nights with Lisa Turpin, Marietta Edgecombe and Padma Patil; he had a bit of a thing for Ravenclaw girls. In fact, he'd even considered getting serious with some of them. Every once in a while, they stayed the night, but for some reason that seemed to bring about more nightmares.
When he woke up shouting with Lisa Turpin in bed with him, she accidentally stunned him thinking someone had broken in and was trying to attack her.
Marietta had gotten so startled, she left right there. Didn't even bother to put her bra back on.
After that, Draco stopped going after women he was familiar with and instead began picking up women in random bars and pubs. At one point, he'd even tried hitting on the barmaid herself, only to find out it was Hannah Abbott, all grown up and married to Neville Longbottom (who, as it turned out learned how to throw an exceptionally powerful punch over the years). If he was going to wake up in the middle of the night screaming his head off, it sure as hell was not going to be with a girl that he planned on seeing again.
It didn't help. If anything, he became more of a wreck as more and more of his former "colleagues" ended up in jail. He felt…a bit guilty, if you will, that people he'd known and grown up around were in Azkaban while he was still walking free. He'd had a hand in the assassination of Dumbledore and yet he got off while some other people were being thrown into Azkaban simple for having the Dark Mark on their skin, even though they hadn't acted on it the same way others had…
He tried to make himself feel better by assuring himself that he hadn't really been THAT horrible. He hadn't actually done the deed. He hadn't turned in Harry and his friends when they showed up at the Manor, looking like they'd just been through hell and back. Still, he felt guilty. He'd failed his family and caused them to become a disgrace in the wizarding world. He'd failed his friends and even got one of them killed in the Room of Requirement. Things simply hadn't been as glamorous as he had hoped with the Death Eaters and now those memories were haunting him forever.
Sometimes, he didn't even sleep with the women he took home. Some nights he just wanted to sleep with someone next to him; he just wanted to hold someone his arms and feel the warmth of another person snuggled up next to him. The girls he ended up picking up were usually just as lonely as he was and were willing to give him that, but they had nothing else to offer him. He attempted to make conversation with them but they usually ended up being slightly more intelligent than giants.
Slowly he started to lose contact with everyone but his parents. Goyle and Pansy were doing…Merlin knows what, Draco really didn't care that much. Goyle had been a bit smarter than Crabbe so he'd always favored him more than his other partner in crime, but you could still only hold a conversation with him for so long before wanting to fall asleep. Blaise was a decent acquaintance and someone to grab a drink with if they were both in the mood to find women, but other than that, Draco knew Blaise thought he was better than the Malfoys, so he usually avoided him unless he needed a wingman.
Despite the fact that Crabbe had been as smart as a mountain troll, Draco still found himself feeling a stab of guilt over his death from time to time. Sure, Crabbe was the one who had a complete mental breakdown in the middle of the battle, shooting flames out of his wand without being able to stop them, but why had they been in that room in the first place? To find Potter. All because Draco wanted his fucking wand back. Looking back on it now, Draco could have just bought a new one, but no, he had to be stubborn and get HIS wand back. Harry did eventually give it back, but in retrospect, it didn't matter. Crabbe still died because of it, and made an appearance in his nightmares every once in a while if he thought about him a lot.
This brought him to tonight. He sat in the Leaky Cauldron, drinking his firewhiskey and moping over the fact that Crabbe wasn't around because of him. Hannah was always good about keeping an eye on him and making sure he wasn't too sloppy by the time he left the bar, and he could tell that she was already adding water to the whiskey to dilute it. How much had he had already? He could have sworn it was only a glass or two…or maybe three…
Suddenly, Draco felt nauseous. He must have had more to drink than he realized, because he knew that he was going to be sick and there was no stopping it. He jumped from his barstool and charged towards the loo, immediately hiding in a stall and kneeling over the toilet, waiting for the inevitable sickness to come.
A few minutes later, he felt much better and vowed to never drink firewhiskey again (a vow he'd made himself numerous times already) and he steadily rose to his feet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and walked out of the stall, only to realize that—he wasn't in the men's loo.
No, he was definitely in the women's bathroom. There was only one woman in there, fixing her eyeliner in the mirror with a small smirk on her face. Her dark brown hair flowed down her back and ended a few inches past her shoulder, and while she DID look slightly familiar to Draco, he couldn't place her.
"That didn't sound enjoyable at all," she said jokingly as she continued to fix her makeup. Draco just stared, unsure of what to do since he'd never been in this situation before.
"No. Not at all," he grumbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd gone int—"
"Are you at least feeling better?" she asked him, popping the cap on her eyeliner and tossing it into the small clutch purse she had in her hand. She turned to face him and eyed him, almost as if she was trying to figure out if he'd get sick again.
He simply nodded. He allowed himself a split second to take in this woman's appearance—she was only a few inches shorter than him, but he had never been a tall lad to begin with. She had dark brown eyes and thin lips, and a rather curvy figure. He'd definitely seen her before, but he concluded that she was probably a Leaky Cauldron regular that he just hadn't attempted to woo yet.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. He often decided on a whim which girls he was going to attempt to woo that night—this girl was no different. He didn't want to sleep with her, though, this was a night where he just wanted to spend some time with someone, to hold someone as he drifted to sleep in an attempt to ward off Crabbe who would no doubt appear in his dreams tonight. He hoped she wouldn't mind, although she didn't seem the type. He could tell her that he was really FEELING a connection between them and didn't want to move too fast…
"Sure. I think you should lay off though, yeah? I don't want you running out to the bathroom while we're talking," she said with another smirk. Maybe he'd made a mistake picking this girl. She was clearly going to hold this whole bathroom incident over his head the whole night.
When they got back to the bar Hannah immediately fussed over him, insisting that she was cutting him off for the night even though he kept telling her he didn't mind. He ordered his new companion a drink and she sipped it while looking at him thoughtfully. He had no idea why she was looking at him like that—it was like she was trying to read a book. He didn't like being read like that.
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked finally, her lips curling into a playful smile and making her look less threatening than when they first met. He wrinkled his eyebrows and tried again to remember where he'd seen her—they hadn't hooked up already, had they? He was positive they hadn't. Despite the fact that there were many women in his past he took pride in the fact that he could at least remember all of them. The alcohol was still clouding his brain and not helping this situation at all.
"No, I don't. Should I remember you?" he asked in confusion. She chuckled and shook her head, taking a sip of her drink.
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. I was just curious. My name is Asteria Greengrass, I believe you knew my sister Daphne?" she said finally. It was like someone had set off a Lumos spell in Draco's brain. NOW he knew why she looked familiar. He didn't think he'd ever spoken to her, but he had seen her around the school. She was younger than him, but not by much, and a prefect too, if he remembered correctly. He was positive he'd seen her at prefect meetings during his seventh year.
"Ahhh, yes, I do recall seeing your face around the castle," he said in earnest. Hannah placed a glass of water in front of him and he began to drink it in an attempt to get an early handle on the hangover he'd no doubt have in the morning.
"Daphne always talked about how amazing you were. I swear Draco, judging from my sister's reactions to you I think you had the whole female population of that school wrapped around your finger," she teased him with a chuckle as she took another sip of her drink. For once, Draco felt himself blushing and he looked at his palms.
"I don't understand what was so appealing, really," he mumbled under his breath. That was mainly to himself, but she'd heard it and shook her head.
"No, I remember the way you carried yourself around the school—if you didn't think you were hot stuff, you were certainly good at pretending you did," she told him with a wink. Draco smirked and let out a low chuckle. He DID take satisfaction in his ability to carry himself with pride back in those days. Being a Malfoy had practically meant celebrity status in Slytherin house.
"Were you in Slytherin?" he asked.
She nodded.
"What have you been up to?" he asked. He wanted to make small talk before taking her back to his flat. Maybe they'd do a bit of fooling around, but he didn't want to do anything else. Not only was he still a bit bummed over Crabbe, but he was still feeling a bit queasy and didn't want to get sick again. That was the last thing he needed.
"I've just been accepted to the Healer training program, actually," she explained. Draco smiled and raised his eyebrows.
"Healer, really? Impressive," he said with a grin. She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. Draco couldn't help but think that, at that moment, she looked pretty cute. She had a sort of girlish charm about her, even though she was clearly well into her twenties like he was. He found himself wondering what it might be like to run his hands through her luscious brown hair…
"I'm sure it's not as impressive as your job," she told him with a smile. Draco just shrugged and took another drink of his water. He didn't answer, but instead decided to skip the small talk and skip right to the invitation back to his place. He didn't want to ruin her allusion that he had some fancy, impressive job. She seemed to believe he was still the same Draco from school, who strutted the halls like he owned the place, and he preferred she keep that mental image in her mind.
"Why don't we move this to my flat? It's just a few blocks away…I guarantee you my sofa is much comfier than these bar stools," he said with a smirk. She grinned and downed the rest of her drink before nodding.
"Lead the way, Mister Malfoy."
Draco was a naturally clean person, so there was no hesitation when he opened the door to his flat—no wondering if he'd remembered to pick up his clothes or wash the dishes in the sink. He offered her another drink, but she asked for water, and they chatted on his couch for a few minutes before he casually asked her if she would care to spend the night. He was about to launch into his line about them having an intense "connection", and he didn't want to ruin things by sleeping with her right away, but she spoke before he got a chance to open his mouth.
"Why is it you want me to sleep over, Draco?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and studying him again in that annoyingly irritating way. "I have a hard time believing you just want sex. Men like you don't usually flat out ask for sex. At least, not from my experiences."
His mouth fell open slightly and he took a drink of water to avoid answering right away. For some reason, he felt that he could be open with her and she wouldn't be angry with him. Not completely honest, of course. But he could share with her that all he wanted was some companionship, and he somehow knew she'd be understanding.
"I just want…I just want someone to be here. To spend the night with. It might be hard to wrap your head around, but it DOES get awfully lonely in a one bedroom apartment," he joked, smiling as she chuckled with him.
She set her drink down and put her arm up on the back of the couch, resting her head on her arm and looking at him thoughtfully. He blushed again (he was doing that a lot tonight for whatever reason) and looked at his hands. He wished she'd stop doing that. Staring made him uncomfortable.
"You're peculiar, Draco. Not at all how I expected you to be, judging from your days at school," she told him.
His next words came without him even thinking. "Well, in case you forgot there was a war going on a few years ago that sort of changed everything," he grumbled. She blinked in shocked, sitting up and looking at him like she couldn't believe he'd said that. Draco didn't say anything else, because he'd already spoken more than he usually did during these one-night stands and he didn't like it. He felt uncomfortable. He just wanted to go to sleep now and not talk anymore.
She must have sensed this, because she smiled softly at him and gently grasped his hand. "Come on, I think it's time for bed," she said quietly, and with the smallest of smiles, he stood up and led her into his room.
That night, he relived the night Potter and his friends had been captured and brought to his manor.
Draco had never really been a fan of Granger's. Her blood status really hadn't mattered to him much, and he mainly only kept up the insults because that was what was expected of him. She was just a downright annoying girl, always raising her hand in class and being overly smart and making sure everyone else knew it. Still, when she'd started screaming like that, he panicked, but he had to remain cool while his parents and the other Death Eaters were around. He knew that even though he couldn't stand them at times, he wouldn't be able to hold it together if Potter or one of his friends died in his house…
With a yell, he bolted away just as Hermione started screaming his dream. Asteria was asleep beside him, wearing her clothes from the bar since she'd turned down his offer to sleep in one of his shirts. She awoke from his yelling, however, staring at him as she tried to comprehend what was going around her. He threw his hands over his ears and squinted his eyes shut, afraid that if he moved, he'd hear the screams again.
"Draco? Draco?" she asked, sitting up and putting an arm around him. He had perspired quite a bit through his t-shirt, and he tensed, preparing himself for the stream of questions that would follow. Maybe she'd even be so freaked, she'd leave right there. He closed his eyes and waited, but the questions never came.
Instead, she rubbed his back in comforting circle, resting her head on his shoulder. "Shush, take deep breaths," she whispered to him. Draco was confused—wasn't she scared? Nervous? All the other girls had been like that. They'd all thought he was some freak if he awoke in the middle of the night, screaming because his dreams were haunting him again. Instead, she was actually making an effort to calm him down. She was trying to help him. She wasn't using HIM for selfish reasons, wasn't using him because SHE was lonely and wanted a man for a night.
He finally lay back down, pulling Asteria into his arms. He held her tight, closer than he had before they fell asleep, burying his face in her dark brown hair. She was really something else. She reminded him more of those Ravenclaw girls he'd hooked up with than the Slytherin's he'd slept around with at school. She was different, and while it had been unsettling at first, it was really nice now. It was comforting.
He drifted off to sleep some time later, and when they awoke in the morning, she was bright and cheerful and didn't mention what had happened. Instead, she immediately started the conversation again from last night, talking about her healing training and telling him about Daphne's potion research. He smiled, and decided as she was talking that the least he could do before she left was make her some scrambled eggs for breakfast.
As he walked her to the door and prepared to say goodbye to her, Draco thought that maybe calling this one back might not be a bad idea. She was extremely nice, not to mention easy on the eyes as well…plus, she was actually fun to talk to and she'd been very understanding last night during his—episode. Yes, he definitely wanted to see her again.
And he wanted to kiss her.
She turned to say goodbye to him once they reached the doorframe, and she looked like she was waiting for something, so he smiled and leaned in for the kiss. He was rather satisfied with himself, actually, it was a very slick move in his opinion, but at the last second, she turned so that he only got her cheek. He pulled away in slight disappointment, only to see she was smirking at him, quite proud of herself for playing with him like that.
That little minx, was all he could think as she slipped out the door and out of sight.