Intro
Draco POV
Astoria Greengrass was an annoyingly simple girl; to anyone who had compared her to Daphne, that is. Of course, if they'd met her, they would know that she was not so simple, as no single person is. Astoria was far different from the cookie-cutter mold of pure blood princesses.
For example, she liked Muggle things. It wasn't that she occasionally dabbled in the Muggle world to get attention; she immersed herself in it. She carried around a fellytone, for Merlin's sake! She listened to loud banging noises she called pop, through little wires that she put over ears.
She had piercing green eyes that cut into him and annoyingly wavy dark hair that somehow always, always smelled like apples (not that he tried to smell it every time she walked by).
It was for all these reasons that Draco Malfoy liked her (of course, he'd swear over and over that he didn't); but the worst reason of all, was of course, that she didn't like him back.
Astoria POV
Draco Malfoy was a prat, a handsome one, but still a complete and utter prat.
He couldn't stand the sight of even a single speck of dust on his immaculately pressed robes, because, of course, the prat still wore robes. He hated when people insulted his hair, (it was too blonde, like her stupid bimbo of a sister), but he somehow managed to break the stereotype by voraciously reading everything he could get his hands on, because, Merlin, the man was smart.
Draco Malfoy also had some sort of allergy to Muggle music, twisting up his face, with a belligerent tone, "Who let the dogs out anyway?" But Astoria didn't mind because, at least he was trying, which was more than she could say about his father. Draco Malfoy also didn't like to talk about Lucius or the War, because he was somehow stunted emotionally, and couldn't, for the life of him, talk about his feelings.
But despite all this, or maybe because of it, Astoria Greengrass still liked him.
The only problem was he didn't like her back.
Astoria POV
The day Astoria met him, she was in a good mood. Of course, with his lovely attitude, her spirits soon fell. He was arrogant, obnoxious, and so obviously apart from the crowd that he almost looked lonely. He was whispering furiously at what she could only assume was some sort of supervisor for the ex-Death Eater. As if he'd start something here, at the unveiling of Hogwarts? What, did they think he'd go ballistic and shoot Dark Marks in the air, shouting 'Death to Mudbloods,' as they unveiled the castle? 'Although it would be a sight to see,' she chuckled to herself, 'An entire celebration destroyed by a 21-year-old belligerent blonde.' She made her way over towards the hushed argument and watched eagerly. When the supervising Wizard, (she was about 90% sure the ginger was some sort of Wizarding parole officer), grabbed Malfoy's arm and yanked hard, she knew she should probably do something as no one else would. Regardless of how much she didn't particularly like the man, he didn't really deserve to be manhandled. She approached Malfoy with a faux smile on her face.
"Draco, there you are. I've been looking for you everywhere!" The look on each man's face was well worth engaging in an actual conversation with the prat, but the prissy redheaded little shitfire decided to take it to a whole other level. He stuck up his nose and drew himself up to his full height: a meagre 5'7".
"Just who do you think you are? This is very important Ministry work and I very well might just write you up for obstructing a very important-" While the man blathered on about "very important" things, Astoria grabbed the Ferret's hand, (a hand that was not as disgustingly slimy as she would have originally thought), and pulled him deep into the quickly yanked away from her touch; his eyes darted around the crowd, as if they were pressing in against him, like he was the insect and they were all size 11 boots, waiting to smash him into the ground, and he hunched in on she looked closer, she realised he was shaking, not huge noticeable tremors, but tiny shivers that overtook his entire body.
"Hey," she tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, "Don't let him get to you." He froze, and turned to her with a sneer.
"You'd think I'd let an insignificant little paper-pusher like Peters get to me? He is nothing more than scum, a worm beneath my feet," he paused to smirk before turning his full fury on her,
"And you? I hardly think I would need a weak little witch like yourself to assist me. I doubt you could help me any more than you could help that ignoramus Daphne. Having said that, if the need arises, I'd rather call on your prissy slut of a sister than you. Are we clear? You did me no favours." And with that, he spun and disapparated with a pop.