Daffodils
DISCLAIMER: I don't own HP, or any characters portrayed below.
One of my Sweetly Drowning readers, . , wanted a one-shot, so I wrote this up in a nip. I love this pair, they're not done enough, which is a pity seeing as Astoria is, as a character, very flexible.
Please review. And enjoy!
Though they frequented his mother's extensive gardens, Draco did not like daffodils in the least bit. They were frilly, fussy, and the worst colour in the world-yellow. The colour of Hufflepuff, lemons, and cowards. He couldn't stand their lacy cups. In his childhood, his mother would send Dobby out to cut vases of the dew drop-covered blooms early in the morn. They were unnaturally long-lived flowers; they lasted days and days. He hated them. Bright and cheery as a cherub's ass, daffodils added a particular element of happiness that did not-could not-reasonably exist in the Malfoy household. In other words, an illusion.
And a sad one at that. A sad, smelly illusion.
Astoria, naturally, loved the damn things. Far more than she like roses, or lilacs, or daisies, or orchids. "But," he would argue, "you are an orchid-rare and lovely."
"I'd rather be a daffodil." she would reply simply.
So, he bought her petunias. Chrysanthemums. Lilies. Marigolds. Irises. Tulips. Poppies. But never daffodils. They were silly-looking, besides expensive. Not that money was ever an object.
One day, in the garden, months after their tumultuous engagement was official, but before it was publically announced, he ventured to ask her why she so loved the blossoms. Tickling her cheeks with a soft pink peony, he watched the blush rise as she giggled, until it matched the flower's petals. When he asked, she stopped laughing. Her expression turned to one of deep musing. Draco waited.
"I suppose there are a lot of reasons why," she began slowly. "for one, they're quite pretty. They always reminded me of teacups."
"Without handles?"
Astoria ignored him, moving on. "Then they're colour is quite nice. I do like yellow. It…it's cheery. And one could always use more cheer. It's a warm, buttery colour. Sort of…uplifting."
He snorted loudly. Her resolve broke briefly as she elbowed him in the ribs. Draco let out a gasping breath, lungs choking. His fiancé settled back into the grass smugly.
"The smell is delightful. They smell like rain and sunshine." Two things he could not quite imagine together. "It's light and soothing, and sweet. But not too sweet. Not painfully sugary. Just bright and gentle. Delicate. Dainty, I suppose. Something, if it were a perfume, I would wear every day. Casual. Natural."
A distant smile crossed her face. She wasn't looking at him, or the flower, or anything, really. Just up and away.
"But what I love most," she said quietly. "is their timing. Daffodils come at the very dawn of spring. When things are just starting. The world is all fresh and green and new. It's simply…a beginning. New enough for things to still change. For alterations."
"What do you mean, 'things?'"
He's afraid he had broken her reverie, but Astoria did not look away from her horizon. "It's like being a teenager. Spring has a potential. You've just started, you've sort of formed yourself out, but it's just a hint of who you are going to be. Like, clay, before the kiln and the glazing. There is still time for change, to carve away the layer, and find the proper you. "
Draco watched her for several moments. "So, spring?"
Astoria smiled. "Yes. Spring."
"And that's why you like daffodils."
"No, Draco. It's why I like you."
He frowned. "Hm?"
"You're my spring." she said simply.
"I'm mushy clay?"
Astoria kissed him. "No, my goose, you smell like sun and rain."
The Malfoy heir waited for more, but it was not forth coming. With nothing left to do, he kissed her back, wondering if perhaps there was more to the analogies than she'd implied.
Please review! I know it's a fuffy short, but feedback would be lovely.
