In our hands

Is a Drastoria / Dramione fanfiction (Astoria x Draco x Hermione), Astoria Greengrass' POV, involves Veela!Draco. Starts when they are at kiddo ages, through war and with their last year's at Hogwarts (techinically eight for Draco and Hermione). Trigger warnings are swearing, war scene and fat ass heartbreak. Two-shot. — Astoria is engaged to Draco Malfoy and they hate each other at first sight. Then comes the war crashing down on Astoria's perfect, perfect little world and soon she realizes things she had not wanted to know about.

She was seven when she first heard the word: engagement. It was so meaningful that time for little Astoria, a grown-up word that she had no idea what meant for her. Yes, in theory, she understood, she knew its definition, but not what it would entail for their lives.

But, at first, she was ecstatic!

She told the news to Daphne, bragging around that she, in fact, was engaged and had something Daphne didn't: a fiancé. Even though she had no idea who he was, she was so sure he would be her perfect match in everything! Her parents chose him, of course they chose well! They would never give their second daughter to someone of unworthy birth. Besides, father and mother could never be mistaken!

So after the first week of being engaged, little Astoria Greengrass was over the moon. She told about this development to everyone around: to Poppy, the house elf when he served her their favourite Darjeeling tea, to Pearl, her plush unicorn to whom she sworn to love the boy – man! – her parents decided on. And of course, to everything, even to objects, to Mother Nature and the fish in the pond that they had in the back yard.

However her mirth lasted for only before they met.

Draco Malfoy was nothing like she had envisioned: jumpy, condescending, spoilt, playful and so pale that it made Astoria think she should need her make-up palette to make him look less like a china doll. Their first meeting didn't go the way most expected: he sneered and mocked at her, she turned her back to him to rather play with her sister than speak with her fiancé.

Their dislike was present during those two years when they were still just children, they met at parties and brunches; giving each other dirty looks from across the tables.

Then, it was time for Draco: he got to go to Hogwarts.

In that year, it was nothing special to Astoria – minus she missed her sister. From her letters she knew Daphne loved the life there, she enjoyed her lessons, she loved being able to finally use her abilities and get some allies. Yes, allies, because there was nothing like friendship in the Slytherin dorms.

It was soon the end of school year when she first saw her fiancé again: Draco looked more mature, he seemed taller and he just couldn't shut up about two things. One was, obviously Harry Potter and his pathetic sidekick and the other was a girl called Hermione Granger who stole his place in the class' ranking – she was the best student in their year. Even Daphne complained about them at home, their parents laughing that off, of course, because how could a mudblood be the first in anything?

So Astoria nodded along to Draco's speeches and she started hating that girl too. So she thought they were getting closer to her dreams and she told it to Pearl with enthusiasm because there was a chance! There was a chance that their future marriage wouldn't end in a catastrophe! They finally agreed on something!

Well, that was her idea until she met Pansy Parkinson – the crazy best friend who always had a hand on Draco's, those two having their fun in plotting against Potter and had their joy in giving pathetic little names to Weasley. It was all their summer holiday was about and Astoria had no way of getting in their private circle – come on, even Crabbe and Goyle were there, how come she couldn't be a part of it?

Because you're a baby! – stated Draco and turned away, dismissing his fiancée with a casual wave of his pale hand.

After that, Astoria never went to the Manor in the next four years. She started Hogwarts too in the meantime, got to the top of her year, sneered at Draco and his childish actions from the distance and pretty much ignored Daphne. She never answered to letters from her parents and never accepted Narcissa's invitations for brunches – she was entirely alone in the Ravenclaw tower.

And it was okay, good even – though nearly her entire house hated her. She knew that her relationship to her sweet sister had soured, that her mother couldn't be more careless until she knock over their alliances with the Malfoy family and that now Narcissa didn't favour her – she tried to put a stop to the engagement more than three times in the last two years.

All she had to do was to learn and hide in her room in the tower. All alone – because that was okay, good and safe. Astoria was satisfied.

Well, she really was all until the war had started.

She was, of course, in no harm's way when Draco Malfoy – really who else? – let the Death Eaters in the school. She never really got to know what exactly happened that night, and that was of satisfaction to her. But when she arrived home, Astoria mused, now, that was when she got mentally slapped in her face – there, in their hall stood Lucius Malfoy, demanding she went with him to meet with someone really important.

His steel coloured eyes were tired, his posture seemed broken in closer look and the cane which was his usual accessory was actually put to use now. Azkaban had left an obvious trail on him and Astoria just knew she couldn't play out the same cards which she did with Narcissa, she couldn't get away this time. They were all in trouble.

His future father-in-law apparated them to the Malfoy Manor and after the usual gut-churning feeling, she was hardly able to control her expression. The once so bright and lively rooms were darkened so much that it seemed poisoned to her eyes, there was no sunshine despite it being the middle of British summer – it seemed the evil attracted vast, grey clouds over Wiltshire.

There were Death Eaters running around the entire place, Azkaban runways and so much darkness and foul magic that it made her tremble – even though she wanted to stay poised.

Lucius led her to the Manor's dining room where she came face to face with three people, Narcissa Malfoy was one of them, looking ever so prim, slightly grimacing when seeing her, a woman with matted, crazy hair that was surely Bellatrix Lestrange – as she got to know from the Prophet and then, there was someone she heard so many rumours about, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Astoria needed to hold her act under control as she fashionably curtsied and politely greeted all those shady characters.

She could hear the malice in the Dark Lord's words, "Yes my dear, you can straighten up now." When she did, she still left her head bowed, knowing it would be nothing good locking eyes with Voldemort's. He chuckled when realizing that. "Oh aren't you a clever one?"

She nodded along like a well-bred puppy, sophisticatedly smiling and occasionally saying something – strictly just when the question was directed at her. And there seemed quite a lot of those – Voldemort asked things that surprised her; her interests, the future she sees herself in and her opinion of their society.

They were dangerous questions; she knew that well-enough as she tried to manoeuvre herself over the edge of the pitfall, lest the game ended too fast. The Dark Lord seemed to enjoy seeing her struggling as the carefully structured sentences rolled of her lips, shooting the next one at her immediately, without mercy.

She caught Bellatrix's crazed stare as she maniacally smiled at her and Narcissa's impressed looks, though it did nothing to have herself back at the older woman's graces. It was too late for that.

The meeting was ending – she just felt it coming and she knew that the last question would decide her fate. Alive or dead – that was at stake.

"Miss Greengrass, am I right to assume that you want nothing from the Malfoys?" came the question and she gulped.

"I… I," that was the first time when her voice wavered and she suddenly felt the room heating up, perspiration rolling down on her spine and her madly trembling fingers as they clutched around the golden hem of her robes. She awkwardly tutted and boldly looked up in those infamous, red eyes. It was that kind of unexpected question.

And she knew she had made a fatal mistake.

Legilimency was a powerful magic – it made her carefully constructed walls crumble so disturbingly easily, it made her eyes roll back in her skull and lose her balance as she, now, crouched on the floor, bent and was absolutely pathetic. She could hear cackling laughter, feel a condescending glare sinking in her back while a slimy presence crept around her mind.

Seeing all those memories, it was breaking her from the insides – she decided not to care, she made herself not to care, but she was always aware of Daphne's sad eyes following her around the Great Hall. Astoria ignored her hollowness whenever she saw her and their Slythering gang parading around with Draco Malfoy as a leader – it was her dirty little secret that Voldemort had just now uncovered.

And those sewn-up injuries were torn open now and she cried as Voldemort inspected every aspect of her life, trying to find something mildly interesting and he was obviously unsatisfied when he couldn't.

His cold words cut the illusion and Astoria found herself facing with the expensive Persian carpet, her drool mixed with blood tainting the expensive fabric, "Bring in the Parkinson girl. She's of no use to us."

She slept through three days when she next woke up. It was around ten as she squinted up at the grandfather clock opposite her bed. There were two blankets tightly wrapped around her and she had Pearl under her arms. It was peaceful – so different from the battles, raids and wars out there, in the real life. There battles in which now Draco, her father and a lot more of her acquaintances were part of.

She gulped and thanked Merlin that she could be at home, dozing instead of killing off innocent people.

Automatically, Astoria tightened her hold over Pearl and looked out of her window – it was so different compared to the gloomy Wiltshire. Even though the Malfoy Manor was southerner than the Montgomery Highlands – the place where the Greengrass residence was built in, inside one of the hills, practically invisible even to magical folk – it was sunny and felt actually warm. Her toes curled in anticipation to get to the sunlight and Astoria opened her window to let her legs swing in the air.

One of her hands was around Pearl while with the other, she grasped on the cool iron lest she fall off the hill and she watched as the tiny ants ran up and down on the grass, listened to the voice of various singing birds and relaxed in the sunlight.

It was peaceful – there was no sign of a war, being anywhere near to her. And it was good that way. Safe. Satisfactory.

Her lips opened to a mute scream as she felt a grip on her shoulder, "Astoria!" She flinched and slowly turned around, surprised to see her mother actually being there, worried and ecstatic to see her up and well. "I thought you would never wake!" she cried and her grip tightened on her, just as Astoria's did around her plush unicorn.

"Why is the mirth, mother?" To that, the lady of the Highlands stiffened, her carefree smile frozen on her lips, "Last I knew, I was of no use to our side anymore, even though I honestly have no idea why my presence was even required," she snorted to that and turned her back to watch the wind rustle through the distant trees' branches. It was more interesting than her mother ever would be.

"So you had not realized," came the soft voice from just above her. Astoria pretended not to care, even though curiousness literally ate her insides away. She set her eyes firmly on the trees, not even moving when her mother started gently running her fingers through her thick, chestnut locks. "Your engagement is over."

Not that she was surprised after her pathetic production, but it still seemed too sudden – usually a thing like this dragged on for years what with all those documents and blood contracts being involved, "So Mrs. Malfoy got what she wanted," Astoria mused with a wry smile, grateful to have her future back in her own hands.

By this time, it was obvious she was and would never be anything to Draco. And vice versa.

"To be exact, it was more of our Lord's wish than anything else. Narcissa didn't even know it until yesterday," her mother muttered, starting to hum a melody that reminded Astoria of her childhood, before Hogwarts, before all the complications, when it was just her, Daphne and their parents. It was good to dwell on the past, just for a minute.

However, Astoria just couldn't shut up even for that single moment, "Why was it called off? Besides me being not satisfactory to our Lord, that is."

Her mother chuckled and started braiding her hair and Astoria tried not to flinch at the skin-on-skin contact, "Aren't you eager to know? Hah, Astoria you changed nothing," she noted in an amused voice, "But it's because of Draco Malfoy."

Really, who else?

"What did he do this time?" Astoria whipped out, getting irritated that the world seemed to revolve around her fiancé. Ex-fiancé – she corrected herself immediately.

Her mother seemed shocked by her sharp tongue as she half-heartedly slapped her on her hand in a warning manner, and Astoria could feel her scathing eyes drilled in her back, but she didn't react in any way. She only straightened her back a little more.

"It's more of the issue what he didn't do this time," she answered her slowly, her words careful, meaning Astoria needed to pay extra attention to each of them to understand the weight of the situation. "He refused to kill a girl. A muggle," she pressed on with acid in her voice.

Astoria expected a lot of things, but this, this she did not. Her mouth opened in surprise, her fingers squeezing around Pearl with a renewed strength, "Oh, oh" she echoed while the gears in her head were working hard. It didn't take long to realize the intention which why the Dark Lord asked for her presence, "He would have been blackmailed with my well-being," she exhaled. She lifted her eyes, looking directly at the shining sun, squinting slightly. It was bright and it was light – nothing like the darkness of Wiltshire, and she was grateful to be unfit for the subject of the blackmail. "I understand now."

Her mother's sigh sounded so loud and heavy in the summer afternoon that Astoria thought she had amplified her voice with a simple sonorus. "Maybe you understand now, but you definitely do not know everything, Astoria." She finished the braiding that moment, tying back Astoria's locks with a simple, lavender fabric. The bow was perfect and matched to her hair even by the colour. "The Malfoys are of Veela kin."

She whacked her head for any important information – she tried to remember what she knew about Veela, what she read about them in the school library, what she heard about them back in her second year, during the triwizard tournaments.

Her voice was demanding and serious when she asked, "Meaning?"

Fleur Delacour, the champion of Beauxbatons was a Veela – or part, at least. She recalled the older girls chatting with her than, when the blonde beauty was far away, berating her for her ego, skills, her ever-so-perfect appearance. It was ridiculous, to be honest.

"He has a special someone," her mother answered, her eyes betraying her emotions: she thought her daughter was as miserable as she was when it turned out Astoria wasn't that someone. "A special someone for whom he would do everything. And our Lord thought he needed to find that someone to gain full control over the Malfoys."

"So it was Pansy Parkinson? She was his special someone?" Astoria asked, biting in the lip as the goose-bumps appeared on her fair skin as a cool breeze went past them. "Please answer me, mother," she asked with a reserved voice.

Her mother gave a light kiss on her cheek, "No, but Parkinson was a possibility. She nearly got killed in the process."

Her eyes widened in horror, "What do you mean by that?" She whimpered the gentle, but undoubtedly curious words.

"Our Lord tested the Parkinson out. She had been seriously harmed in front of the Malfoy boy." Her mother exhaled slowly the next few words, "But his reaction was nothing compared to what Lucius did when Narcissa was endangered. And the younger the Veela, the stronger they are."

Astoria looked far away, to the direction of Wiltshire in thought, "Is Mrs. Malfoy Mr. Malfoy's special someone?"

She could literally hear the smile in her mother's voice. It wasn't soft – it was a cruel one, wry and biting, "They share a kind of love that can't be demolished. They are married by fate, not by blood contracts, darling. Just think about it… what are the main Black traits?" her mother spit out the words as if those were any form of acid.

Astoria knotted her perfectly styled eyebrows in thought, not bothered by her mother's harshness, "Fiery temper, tendency to early death and mental diseases… maybe midnight black hair?"

Her mother praised with a sneer, "That's right," and then nodded, "And what do you think which traits does Narcissa possess?"

"The temper," Astoria blurted out, remembering her very few times in the Manor – Narcissa shouted her throat dry whenever Draco did some kind of mischief and she forgot about her position as Lady Malfoy and the fact that she had over twenty house elves at her service. "She definitely has the temper."

"Now, now, she has the hair. Or more like had," her mother corrected herself and absently flicked Astoria's thick braid over her daughter's shoulder, chestnut, not even a highlight of Malfoy blonde there. Her mother's scathing tone was still on spot as she continued, "As she was Lucius' fated someone, her hair changed its colour in a span of a few days when she came of age. She was eighteen that time. So there is still hope for you, my darling," she chastised and ran her elegantly manicured hands down on her back in a manner of sedation.

It didn't help Astoria a bit.

Sadly, she needed to go back to Hogwarts in September.

It was different this time – nothing like back in the Montgomery Highlands. Hogwarts was dark, steeped, no, drowning in black magic and dread and dementors and psychopaths. It was nothing sort of peaceful, nothing sort of shelter for the needy. It was downright cruel how the feeling of safety was taken away from the students.

And in times like this, safety meant everything. Now, they had none of it.

The problem started when first years got crucioed two weeks into the term. The Carrows made sure that everyone was quivering and mentally damaged and a withering mess – but it took until November when even the pureblooded were frightened.

Neville Longbottom got himself beaten badly, that day.

He was a kind of hero that gave everyone hope, hope and hope – even to her. She saw him stand up every time. She saw him do everything for the younger and she saw him when he was hardly able to stand, with broken ribs and with bleeding slashes on his skin from curses, but still with a smile on his face.

He kept the hope burning in a lot of people. His little resistance plans with the Weasley girl were something everyone knew of, but no one sold out. The teachers were oblivious to that, though even Astoria heard about them high up in the Ravenclaw Tower – from her housemates who liked to play they were immune to rumours.

Hell, even Draco Malfoy knew about them! And he didn't tell, either.

Astoria sometimes noticed Daphne's longing stares, her sister constantly tried to get her alone, but she didn't give in that simply. She knew Daphne was kinda together with the Nott heir, but hadn't spoken with her, not since summer.

She didn't let her get closer – a conversation between students of different houses would have risen conspiracy theories among the students and the teachers, too; even though they were sisters – all the more reasons to be the each other's liaisons between the houses. And the students of Hogwarts did not need any unnecessary suspicion right about now – they were focused on saving themselves foremost, at least the ones, who didn't intend on choosing sides and fight.

Astoria was one of them – she didn't want to choose. In one side was her family, sister, her soon to be brother-in-law and ex-fiancé and the wrong, and on the other side was what was the right, the good and the somewhat safer.

She didn't go home for Christmas. She couldn't when Daphne was held here, she needed to stay to at least look out for her sister even though they hadn't spoken a word to each other in solid four months.

However, the real problems came after they couldn't find Draco fucking Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express back to the school. People talked. It was the sign of the real war – that he wasn't kept away for no reason.

Some suspected he was called away for Death Eater business – because it was a public secret that he was branded –, some speculated that he left to safe himself and fewer thought he did something to go against this ill philosophy he was born into.

There was a base of the last rumour too – quite solid, if someone asked Astoria. Words went and came, but it was a fact that Alecto Carrow spent two weeks in the hospital wing after a close encounter with Draco Malfoy. There was a screaming match, then several curses hurled at each other, between student and teacher. No one knew why or better, how Draco got out of the duel unscathed, or alive, even. It was a mystery that everyone heard of, but no one knew of.

Draco Malfoy left a gaping hole after himself – an uplift and the student body started to buzz yet again with something that made them forget about their current situation. For a few weeks they forgot how to feel threatened and it was like a gift from Merlin himself. It gave a few nights of treasured sleep to the stressed out students who could, by now, understand what was going on in the wizarding world.

Neville continued on with his quiet resistance, the Weasley girl helped, and the next Astoria knew, by the very end of April, after long and long months of risqué encounters and actions, nearly every one of Gryffindors disappeared. Just like that, became thin air and woosh, like they had been dragged to the Forbidden Forest, killed off and forgotten for an eternity.

Neville was never there to protect the youngligs anymore, Weasley was never there to scream at the Carrows and the uprising hope that Draco's absence brought, soon extinguished – like fire disappearing after a flood, not even a sizzling ember of hope survived after that.

The next eight days were hard. Hard on everybody.

There were no news – the Slytherins didn't show their faces, the Gryffindors were slaughtered, merely ashes in the Forbidden Forest – or as Astoria bitterly thought – and with the two noisiest houses being away on vacation or whatever, the entire castle were scattered with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw minors.

The Carrows reigned in terror and Snape was careless what they did until no one died.

It was not good, definitely not safe and obviously not right.

Then, as if lightning bolt coming from out of the blue, came in Harry Potter and Astoria wasn't even surprised that immediately, Voldemort came too. She heard the portraits talk and talk and talk, and the next she knew, the war was there where it should least be: at Hogwarts.

She supposed it was written by Merlin himself, the irony, the biting truth that Voldemort would come back and destroy the place he considered the closest to home. The same place what Harry, himself, considered his home.

The battle was bloody, mean and cruel and oh god, she heard so many screams from her Tower, she saw students younger than her die and she saw Daphne down there, battling to get away from the crossfire with a tight hold over her fiancé's hand as they got through to safety from this hell, and Astoria realized that moment: she couldn't stay here any longer.

She needed to utilize what she learned during the tiring study session about magic and spells and curses – it was put to practice that, at the middle of the field of life and death.

Her breathe was laboured, her hands shaky as she fired the first few spells from behind a crumbling column, aiming at Death Eaters and praying none of them she shot down was her father. She continued on, undetected, as if she were on a secret mission – killing off the bad and the wrong.

Later that night, when Harry Potter was believed to be dead and she was standing side by side with those reckless Gryffindors she despised back in her first few years, did she realize: she had chosen her side.

It was funny really, when she realized Hermione Granger was merely a meter away, that Draco Malfoy was right behind Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley was at her right, wand drawn and not letting those traitorous tears go, because that ginger, Astoria thought pathetic, was actually holding herself together at the sight of her dead love.

Astoria admired her, hell, she admired everyone in this side, not letting go of the hope, the hope that was certainly just sizzling, not burning with full force, but it was inside of every wizard and witch of the Light.

No one noticed timid little, little Astoria Greengrass there, ordinary chestnut hair, petite form and once nice clothes now dirty, hard-worn and tired form the battle and the amount of magic she used from the cover of the crumbling column.

If she felt utterly exhausted, she couldn't believe how the others could feel. They must have been a lot worse state.

The Dark Lord's victorious speech just went on and on, never stopping boasting and drilling in their head that hah, Harry James Potter was finally dead and they were to bow to him not to get killed right away.

It was a bargain no one was ready to take. Everyone remained unmoved and everyone had a tight grip of their wands, because just in case.

Then, Voldemort came to a sudden halt and soon, he was cooing to Draco Malfoy, asking him to turn to his side after all the failures his family pulled, and then the damn break when Draco shot a simple jelly-legs hex (really, a jelly-legs!) at Voldemort, his actions spoke louder than his words ever could.

It was a sign of utter disrespect and sheer boldness, but they were in a war, so who cared? But in reality, it was something so utterly flabbergasting that left a few people chocking either on their laughter or on their blood. Astoria could easily spot the weak half-smile pulling Ginevra Weasley's lips slightly upwards.

And after that, seeing Draco Malfoy's determined expression, focused eyes and the arrogant smirk in his face, Astoria realized, he wasn't the same brat anymore. He probably forgot about her existence, but that moment, seeing all this upheld force in his posture, something heavy and something nauseating rolled in her chest and her world zoomed in on the one and only Draco fucking Malfoy.

He was dirty, his clothes ripped, his hair ruffled and still, he seemed proud and powerful, with stance and with more dignity that he had ever possessed. His change swept her off of her feet and she would have marvelled at his new self, wishing they were still engage for the first time, when she heard the first scream, thus putting a stop to her activity.

The supposed to be very dead Harry Potter was suddenly on his feet and all hell seemed to break out, yet again.

It was all about nasty curses, scorching fires and lightning bolt, about spells that could rip you apart and explode your body parts to the air, or turn you into ashes, or, or… the possibilities were endless.

But Astoria didn't run away – she didn't have the guts, after seeing even Draco Malfoy staying in the crossfire, dodging and attacking, back to back to Hermione Granger as the two, opposites, but still capable of breathtaking teamwork – their combined spells were more like art than magic at that point. All of those had a colour, colours of the rainbow and all were powerful and it was something Astoria strangely envied.

She was never that good of a witch in practice as Hermione Granger was.

Astoria didn't even notice when Voldemort finally disappeared from this world, just that her eyes were always following Draco Malfoy now, never leaving his form.

Just later, when she was sitting in the Great Hall, the unmoving dead bodies surrounded by her – Luna Lovegood and member of the Order of Phoenix were dead beside so many others, Dennis Creevey was screaming and so many cried in the mass of people that gathered there – did she realize that she was in love with Draco Malfoy.

However, what she didn't notice was the single, blonde highlight in Hermione Granger's dishevelled curls.