Trouble in Paradise
The pounding of blood to her brain and the rush of air to her lungs mixed with the thunderous roar of the applause, hitting the petite ballerina like a physical wall of sonic sound. Another night, another successful, sold-out show. 18 months after it seemed like her life had fallen apart, here Astoria Greengrass was, standing center stage under the spotlight, beaming to a crowd of at least one thousand people. She felt lightheaded and giddy, like she was floating above the ground and nothing could touch her. She quickly checked her feet to make sure she wasn't actually floating (she wasn't, thank God. The audience might have believed it was a stage trick, but she'd have a hard time covering it up with the rest of the dancers and crew) and with one final bow, she rushed off stage to the elated whoops and shouts of the rest of her cast.
"You were brilliant, Astoria!"
"Fantastic!"
"Astoria, you were stunning!"
Compliments rained down on her from every direction, and she was so overwhelmed by this wave of love and appreciation that she didn't quite know how to react. Even though the show was in its third week of production, the praise and admiration she received was still an unfamiliar prospect, considering she had spent so much of her life invisible and unnoticed.
As she ran around, hugging person to person while the flood headed backstage to their dressing rooms, Astoria's eyes scanned the sea of heads for one particular and very distinct hair color. He promised he'd be there. In the three weeks the show had been running, he hasn't seen her perform once. But tonight…he promised he'd be there tonight.
She didn't see him, but that didn't make her lose hope. Maybe he was waiting for her in her dressing room. She spun around groups of people and edged between others before squeezing herself out of the throng and into her dressing room.
It was empty.
He didn't come.
Not even a bouquet of flowers.
The elation and euphoria that had just filled her up seeped out of her like a deflating balloon. She wasn't sure if she was more hurt or angry. She'd put up with his broken promises long enough. She didn't deserve to be treated like this.
She changed out of her costume and wiped her makeup off, alternating between hurrying herself up and slowing down. She couldn't decide if she wanted to head home and yell at him, or put it off and just not come home at all. Not that he'd probably notice if she stayed out all night.
But where would she go?
"Hey, hun!" her best friend, Charlotte van Staten (a Muggle, incidentally), called, sticking her head into the dressing room. "We're going out for drinks. Tag along?"
Astoria couldn't bring herself to open her mouth immediately. She was afraid she'd burst into tears.
"What's the matter?" Charlotte asked, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind her.
"Nothing," Astoria squeaked. She cleared her throat and got up from her chair, shrugging on her coat.
"Bullshit," Charlotte said. "Tell me what's going on."
Astoria sighed. "He, erm… he didn't come."
"Draco? Oh, hell no," Charlotte said. "Want me to go kick his arse for you?"
"No, you can leave the arse-kicking to me," she replied. "Thanks."
"Are you going to be okay?" Charlotte asked, concern replacing the anger in her eyes.
"I don't think so," Astoria admitted. "But it must be done."
Astoria's keys jingled against her multiple keyrings and the metal of the doorknob. She could have used her wand, but she wanted Draco to be aware that she was coming home, if he could even hear it above the television she insisted they get when they moved in.
She had barely come of age when they decided to move in together. She remembered the night he Apparated into her room, desperate and distressed.
*A loud pop startled her out of her sleep, and Astoria cried out when she blurrily saw the shape of a human in her bedroom. She scrambled for her wand, lost somewhere in the folds of her bed (she had taken to falling asleep with it in her hand, always afraid something like this might happen), but his voice reached out to her and reassured her.
"Astoria, it's me! Draco!"
"Draco?" she squinted in the darkness, gave up searching for her wand, and reached over to turn on the light. Draco flinched as light flooded the room and illuminated him. "What are you doing here?"
"They're gone." He looked like a drowned rat, except he wasn't wet at all. But he looked so tired and dejected, and he was slouching as if all of his energy was drained out of him. "My parents. They're gone."
"What?" Astoria threw her sheets off her body, ignoring the biting cold that stung her now-exposed skin, and climbed out of her bed to stand in front of the devastated boy. "What do you mean?"
"They left." He was visibly shaking, so Astoria put her hand gently on his and guided him to her bed, urging him to sit down. He did so, but it didn't seem to calm him down in the slightest. "They just left. Without me."
She knew things were bad in the Malfoy household. She knew ever since Voldemort was defeated, they didn't know what to do with themselves. It had been six months since then, and from what Draco told her, things were only getting worse. But she never thought they would leave their only son, especially after they tried so hard to protect him.
She had no idea what to say. She wanted to ask him why; she wanted to ask if they told him anything before they left, or if they left without a word or warning; she wanted to know if he knew where they were. But she knew he didn't need an interrogation. That wasn't what he came here for.
"You're going to be okay," she said soothingly.
"No, I'm not," he insisted. "I'm alone and I don't have a bloody clue what to do next."
"Hey," she said. "You're not alone. You have me. We'll figure something out."
He was quiet for a few seconds before he blurted the most insane request she had ever heard him utter. "Move in with me."
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked when she was able to speak again.
"Let's go. Together. Find some place in London. You always said how much you hated your family. Let's go at it alone, just you and me."
"Draco, this – this is insane!"
"Please."
It was tempting, she had to admit. Completely insane, unbelievably spontaneous, and thrillingly daring, sure, but tempting all the same. But he wasn't thinking rationally. He was distraught and upset and he probably didn't mean what he was asking.
"Let's sleep on it, all right?" she suggested. "Get some rest, and we'll talk about it in the morning."
He scowled and she could feel him pull away from her, but she held on. "Hey, I'm not saying no, okay? It's a big step. And I'm sleepy," she added, leaning her chin on his shoulder with a small smile. "So for now, we sleep. And you know how cranky I get when I don't have enough sleep."
It took all of four hours the next morning for Draco to convince her to move out with him. It wasn't hard saying goodbye to her neglectful family or even her narcissistic bitch of a sister, and she left her house, bags packed, without a second glance.*
When she opened the door to their compacted, one-bedroom flat (a far cry from the many-bedroomed mansion they both were accustomed to), Draco didn't even look up. His eyes were fixed on the telly, watching a football match, even though he claimed he hated watching Muggle sports. Astoria threw her keys into the key tray with a metallic clang.
"Missed you at the show tonight," she said, her voice icy and filled with contempt.
"Got held up," he muttered. The coffee table and floor around the couch were littered with bottles of firewhisky. She sighed heavily, hanging up her coat and stomping forward to pick up after him.
"Oh, well, that must be really rotten for you," she said sarcastically.
"Astoria, don't," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. His hair had grown to the length of his chin, thick and unruly stubble lining his chin and cheeks. The look didn't quite suit him. He reminded her too much of his father. "I'm not in the mood for this."
"Not in the-?" she repeated, her hands full of empty bottles. She stopped herself from screaming, and the words that forced themselves out of her mouth were controlled, but no less fuming. "Okay." She let go of the bottles, letting them all crash to the floor at once. Two of the six shattered on the hardwood floor.
"Bloody hell!" Draco yelled. "What the fuck, Astoria?"
"Sorry," she said without a trace of remorse. "I'm not in the mood to clean up after you tonight." She turned to make her way to the bedroom.
"I'm sorry I've missed your show, all right? You're on for another few weeks, I can watch it some other time."
"No, this isn't about the bloody show, Draco!" she exclaimed, turning and stalking forward. "It's about everything else! Last year, you asked me to move in with you and start a life together, and since then you've turned into a complete and utter inconsiderate arsehole."
"I'm doing the best I can!" he insisted.
"You're not the only person who lost everything after The War!" she shouted. "I've given you time. I've given you space. I've given you everything you need, and you have been treating me like shit the moment I booked this job. You've done nothing but sit on the couch in front of the telly, making me promises that you never keep. I come home exhausted and looking for comfort, and instead I find you snoring, surrounded by rubbish that I'm forced to clean up. I don't deserve this, and I'm sick of it."
"I never asked you to clean up after me," he replied, his face contorted into a mask of offense and indignation. "We could have gotten an elf to do that, but you're the one that insisted we go without one."
The tears were running down her face before she could even register the stinging in her eyes in the first place. He didn't understand anything. "Right, because what I'm really upset about is that I've become your maid instead of your girlfriend," she said sarcastically. She threw her hands up in surrender. He wasn't going to get what she was talking about unless she said it out loud. "Don't be surprised if you wake up one morning and I'm not there to wipe the drool off your chin."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he called out as she stomped toward their bedroom.
"It means if you don't do something about this, I'm done!" she called over her shoulder before she slammed their bedroom door shut, sliding down the wood surface and sinking to the floor as all of her emotions seemed to hit her at once.
She waited for him to come running to the door, to start banging and demanding that she let him in. She waited for him to start pleading and apologizing.
But he didn't. He didn't come. And that was really what sobered her up.
She stood up from the floor, wiping the tears off her face. Walking around the bed, she headed to the dresser and picked up the framed photo of the two of them when they first signed the lease for this place. They looked so happy, their smiles frozen in the normal Muggle photo taken from a disposable Kodak camera.
Gone. That was gone. And for now, so was she.
She found herself standing in front of the WWII (Wizarding War II) Memorial, recently erected in St. James' Park. Similar to the Vietnam War Memorial, the large obsidian wall inscribed with the names of those lost during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's second rise to power stood tall and proud, the names glowing with a light only witches and wizards could see. She ran her fingers over the names engraved in the rock, experiencing a slight pang in her heart whenever she recognized one.
She sighed, asking herself why she chose to come here, of all places, when she heard movement to her left.
She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the intruder, half-hoping she would find Draco lurking behind the memorial.
The man who crept out of the shadow certainly had Draco's white-blonde hair, his piercing blue-gray eyes, his pointed face, and the stubble-y beard that Draco had been growing for the past month. But the man who stepped out of the shadows was not Draco Malfoy.
"Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, lighting the tip of her wand and shining it in the direction of the patriarch.
"Is he here?" Lucius Malfoy's voice was hoarse and dry. He paused to clear his throat, which did nothing to help. "Is he with you?"
Astoria lowered her wand. "No," she said. "He's…at home." She didn't quite feel comfortable telling the father of her boyfriend that they were having a bit of trouble in paradise.
Lucius dropped his head, stepping away from the Memorial. He looked every bit as homeless as he might have been, though Astoria doubted that he actually was. Time away from this place did the poor wizard absolutely no good.
"When you see him," he began, for some reason unable to look Astoria in the face. "Tell him – tell him I was here."
She sensed that he was about to leave, so she hastened to ask what was really on her mind. "How could you do it?"
He paused and finally looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry?" The familiar but distant air of grandeur and superiority was present in his voice – something Astoria hadn't heard in a long time. No matter how far he fell, Lucius Malfoy would always be Lucius Malfoy.
"How could you leave him like that?"
"But I didn't," he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "He—he refused to go."
"What?"
"He wouldn't leave you." If Lucius' pain wasn't evident in his voice, Astoria could certainly see it in his eyes. The fact that his own son chose a girl over his father would be a moment this sad shell of a man would never forget. "My dear," he said, showing her the first bit of affection since they had known each other. "He stayed for you."
Her eyes dropped to the ground in confusion. Why didn't Draco tell her that? Was that why their relationship was falling apart? Because he resented her for being the one to make him stay, even though she had no idea?
"Astoria." Draco's voice rang out clearly, bouncing and echoing in the nearly empty park. She turned to the voice, and he emerged from the opposite side of the memorial and rushed into her arms, not even acknowledging the broken man standing in the shadows. Did he even see him?
"I got worried when you weren't in the room," he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry." He pulled away and held her by her shoulders, staring into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Astoria. I know I've been an arse lately, but I promise you that is going to change. I'll try harder. I just – I can't lose you." He placed his hands around her neck and pulled her lips to his in a kiss that tried to reflect everything they had missed out on these past few weeks. "I love you," he said when they pulled away, as if that kiss didn't tell her everything already.
She smiled at the words, not having heard them in such a long time. But now wasn't the time.
"I love you, too," she said. "But I think there's something you should see." She turned toward Lucius, hoping he hadn't left yet, and saw his shadow in the shadows. "Or someone," she clarified.
Lucius stepped into the light as Astoria stepped back and gave them their space. She couldn't tell if Draco was pleased to see his father or not. For now, it was pure shock.
"Draco," Lucius wheezed, ducking his head and looking up at his son.
Draco stood there, frozen, for what felt like an eternity. "Father," he said curtly. Just when Astoria was starting to worry that this might not have been a good idea after all, they both moved forward and embraced each other. Astoria looked away, feeling a bit indecent to witness such a personal moment between family.
"Where's Mum?"
"Here." Narcissa Malfoy's voice rang out crisp and clear as she stepped out from behind the memorial and joined the two men in their reunion. Astoria started to back away, meaning to head off and Apparate home, but her footsteps alerted Narcissa, who leaned out of the hug and called her back.
"You're part of our family now, too," she said. Astoria smiled and stepped forward. It was touching, really. The Malfoys had never liked her, especially when she and Draco first started going out in his sixth year, but she understood they had a lot on their plate. They all did. However, she wasn't too keen on being dragged back to living underneath family names and legacies. She escaped that when she left her own home, and right now she was just eager to build a new legacy with Draco away from their past.
She couldn't tell them that, of course. Thankfully, before she could get in on this group hug, they all pulled apart and stepped slightly away from each other – Lucius and Narcissa on one side, Draco on the other, with Astoria standing slightly behind and off to the left.
Draco's mother looked every bit as beautiful as Astoria remembered. The haughty look on her face had diminished somewhat, but she still had that grace and elegance that she always possessed. She definitely seemed to be handling this situation better than her husband.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked.
"We've come home, darling," Narcissa said. "It was a mistake to ever leave."
"Where have you been?"
"Grandmother Druella's estate in the South of France," she answered. "We just needed to…get away. For a while."
"Why now?" As grateful as Draco must have been to see his parents again, Astoria was sure he was as wary of their return as she was.
"We missed you!" Narcissa exclaimed as though it was obvious. "Please, Draco, come home with us. We can be a family again."
Draco looked back at Astoria helplessly.
"Astoria can come, too," Narcissa hastened to add. "All four of us, home at the Manor. What do you say?"
Astoria and Draco looked at each other, their eyes conducting a silent conversation.
Truthfully, she didn't think she could ever feel "at home" with the Malfoys, no matter how affectionate they became. That house experienced too much trauma, and this family was too broken. They had too much baggage, and as much as she loved Draco and wanted to help his family, being around all of this wasn't healthy. Lucius and Narcissa needed to figure out who they were in this new world order, just like Astoria and Draco had to, before they could truly live in peace.
But again, she couldn't say that. Not out loud in front of them. It was up to him. She knew how much he wanted to be with them again, and if he chose to go with them, she'd follow and adapt. She could make it work.
She had no idea if all of that translated in her gaze, but Draco turned back to his parents after a few seconds, seemingly with a firm decision.
"Mother," he said. "Father," he added, turning to the man who had metaphorically been pushed aside as Narcissa had taken over. "I chose Astoria the first time. I wanted a life with her, and I haven't lived up to that." He glanced back toward Astoria. "It's time I start being the person she deserves."
His parents looked devastated for a few seconds, and Narcissa (unsurprisingly) was the first to recover. When Astoria saw her smile, she sensed pride in her gaze as Draco's mother looked at her son.
"Of course," she said. "Well, you're welcome to visit."
"As are you," Astoria added, stepping forward so she was level with Draco. She felt his hand slip into hers, and she held onto it gratefully. She almost took a step back when Narcissa turned her gaze onto her, having experienced the Malfoy matriarch's withering glare one too many times. But this time her gaze was filled with admiration and gratitude.
"You really are the best thing that has happened to him," she said, tears brimming in her eyes. Astoria felt her own eyes sting with tears. "Take care of him."
"I will," Astoria said with a watery smile.
Narcissa cast another smile at the young brunette before she turned and kissed Draco on the cheek. Lucius embraced his son, and after one more sad but hopeful smile, the young couple turned away from the old, arms around each other, and headed on their long walk home.