Of an Idiotic New Year
By: OurLoveIsForever
In the face of love, all men are idiots.
Draco pondered this fact as he sat with his mates at a small New Year party at the Nott residence. Truly, he didn't want to be there. On top of that, he had no desire to speak of 'good old times'. For the old times, they weren't particularly 'good'. Reliving his dismal quidditch career and little parties they had thrown in the common room simply didn't exactly appeal to him.
But what had brought his revolutionary thought to light was the behavior of two of his so-called friends.
His eyes slid over toward where Blaise was playing the piano. In all honestly, though he would never tell Blaise in fear of adding air to his overly large head, the handsome man was very good at the instrument. Draco would have been inclined to applaud, but the look in Zabini's eyes as he looked toward the woman standing next to him nearly made Draco sick.
Disgraceful. That sparkly, in-love glint that was in Blaise's dark eyes was simply deplorable.
The woman's name was Tracey Davis, a irritating slip of a woman with no characteristics that made Draco see where Zabini's interest would be sparked. Blaise, the fool, had always had the highest of standards when it came to women. Higher than Draco himself even. Then, suddenly, he shacked up with this random broad from their year with no reputable blood lineage and no discernable dowry. It was unbelievable.
'I love her, Draco. That's all I need to know.'
Oh, yes, because lovechanges everything, right? That age old adage of love being the greatest power of all. The emotion alone could make Blaise Zabini swallow his pride and marry a half-blood Plain Jane.
Draco snorted at the sight and changed his attention toward the host of the party.
Theodore Nott sat in the sofa across from him with his arm around his fiancée. The other man's mouth was close to her ear, whispering comments on each of the attendees, no doubt. Theo had always been a guarded man, even when they were mere children. He always remained reserved and cautious. Now, as he pulled Lisa Turpin closer, he was ignoring his own rules of engagement. Public displays of affection? Never in Nott's style until he met that short, irritable bint.
'I love her, Draco. All of her.'
Well, that just changes the fact that she was a miserable bitch, didn't it? True, she only contained half the attitude of Pansy Parkinson, but that didn't change the fact that she was too close to a harpy. Even so, she balanced out Theo's level headed antics.
Ridiculous.
Rolling his eyes at the couple's antics, he fixed his gaze instead on the group of witches gathered around the punch bowl. They giggled and preened, fluffing their hair and chatted away like some sort of annoying birds. One was tall, with scraggly hair that looked like some rat's nest. Another was short and pudgy. Too brown, too pale, too tall, too short.
Women were more trouble than they were worth. Theo and Blaise were evidence enough of that fact. Bloody idiots that they were, they turned down tickets to the World Cup to simply spend time with their respective women! There was once a time when quidditch outweighed anything in the world, second to bloodline, of course. Now? No, they were laid low by love.
One woman could be beautiful, gorgeous and sensual in all her movements, and yet not earn Draco Malfoy's glance. Another woman could be wise, smart, as smart as Mudblood Granger herself, but there would be no interest from one, Draco Malfoy. Or this hypothetical woman could be virtuous, honorable, and morally upstanding. Truly, all he would wish to do would be to corrupt her before sending her on her newly sinful way with a new notch in his bedpost.
All of these traits in one woman?
Well, that woman simply didn't exist.
She would have to be rich. That was for sure. Beautiful or he would never look upon her. Smart, or he would never deign to speak to her. Of good manners, pure blood, perhaps an excellent musician…Her hair? Well it would be whatever color it please God.
Love? Only idiots believe in love.
"Sorry I'm late! Terry nearly got us killed on the way here."
Draco's aggravated gaze shifted toward a new figure in the room.
"Oh, she's being dramatic. We weren't going to die."
"Dramatic? You're the one that deciding to drive a muggle car! Honestly, Terry. We should have taken the floo."
The woman was tall, indeed, perhaps as tall as he was, certainly the same height as Boot himself. Her eyes narrowed when the man she arrived with said something in response before she crossed her arms. "We'll see what he says to that. Theo!" Her heels clacked upon the hardwoods, grating on every nerve in Draco's body. "Bloody Nott!" Theodore's head jerked up from where he was whispering into Turpin's too large ear. "Dearest Terry over there said that you are disconnected from the floo network. Please inform him of how completely wrong he is."
Boot was looking particularly defeated already, knowing that he had lost whatever disagreement they had been arguing about. Draco wasn't focused on the most irritating of the Boot brood. No, his eyes were glued to the virago who was domineering over the sofa across from him.
"Ah, we're connected now. Sorry, Terry. I meant to inform you."
The Amazon laughed aloud before casting Boot a triumphant look. "Our near-death experience was for naught."
Death may have been a better alternative for the two, if they were trying to compete with the other two couples at that god-forsaken party. He lifted his chin a bit at the scene before he noticed that the woman was staring at him. While he knew he had that effect on some woman, with her it just seemed strange.
"Draco Malfoy?"
He didn't respond and simply gave her a mild sneer.
"Still as pleasant as ever, I see."
Just what the hell was that supposed to mean? His eyebrows moved up quicker than he would've liked. "Still domineering, eh?" was his rather ill thought out response. Inwardly, he cringed.
She scoffed, an odd sound coming out of such a nicely shaped mouth. Inwardly, he cringed again. "Oh, please, you don't even know who I am."
"The hell I don't."
One single—nicely shaped—eyebrow rose. "It would rather impress me if you have that good of memory, Malfoy."
"Antianara." The name slipped off his tongue like a death sentence. He didn't know who this woman was, but he had prided himself for years for his ability to remember faces. Even one night stands with no clear faces had names, but this woman…He was ripped from his annoying thoughts by her laugh.
Smiling, she conceded. "Close. Ironic choice, Mister Malfoy, I must say."
Nott was laughing at this point too, leading to Turpin's rather stupid question. "What does it mean?"
If the silly bitch had listened in History of Magic, she would've known. Draco didn't deign to respond therefore the other woman answered, holding back her amused laughter for the moment. "Antianara was the Queen of the Amazons. Her favorite pastime was cutting off men's genitals for love." Her amused laughter increased at Boot, Malfoy, and Nott's pained expressions. Zabini was too busy snogging Davis to care. "Oh, now, Malfoy, you're the one who brought it up."
"I assumed everyone had listened in History of Magic." Malfoy retorted, leaning back in his seat and pulling both hands to rest behind his head easily. It was hard not to be impressed that she knew such trivia.
"You're not going to remember my name, Malfoy, so don't even bother." She shrugged as if she didn't care. "I doubt you would care anyway, am I right?" He gave her a dull expression, which was answer enough. "That's what I thought."
Unconcerned, she turned back toward where Boot stood speaking with Ernie Macmillan and Pansy Parkinson. His eyes followed her without even meaning to. Perhaps she really didn't need a name. He could just refer to her as 'the Amazon'. It fit well enough, it seemed.
As the night progressed, so did the amount of liquor in his system. Soon the only clear thoughts he had was of the sickening way that Blaise looked at that brute Mudblood Davis. Even her name was ridiculous. His mood improved greatly though, through watching the interactions of the invertible Amazonian Queen.
"Any wishes for the new year, Malfoy?" A voice said to his right. He turned only his head as it leaned back against the cushion of the backing. And there she sat, smiling pleasantly. "Two thousand and five."
"I'm aware of the year."
"I never said you weren't." She laughed.
Just what was it with this woman? He glared tiredly before chuckling. "Ditching Boot for a real man?" It escaped his mouth before his mind had any time to think better of it. Damn that bloody firewhiskey! In the morning, when he was completely sober again, he would hang Nott from the rafters for providing such vapid stuff. Even if it did cause him to relax…
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise before she sank into a comfortable stature against the arm of the couch. "If by a 'real man', you mean you, I would have to say 'no.'" If he hadn't been so tipsy, he would've said something smart back. Instead he settled for an intelligent snort. "I only accept the Hercules sorts." Ah, an intelligent sense of humor? Rare sort, that.
"All big muscles and hairy? Boot is neither."
"Boot isn't my boyfriend. Nor do I fancy him as he actually fancies Ernie."
It was Malfoy's turn to look surprised. "Are you joking?"
"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that I am not at all interested in Terrance Boot."
"He's most likely scared of being castrated."
"Most likely." She conceded with a grin.
"So, you admit it then?"
"Ah, it is one of my many hobbies, I confess. Sometimes it's fun on lonely weekends."
'Lonely weekends'? She should never be alo—Just what was his drunken mind thinking? He was sounding utterly foolish. Instead, he opted for the question he had subconsciously been dying to ask. "Your name?"
"Pardon?"
"Your name, what is it?"
"Asteria, of course."
Another Amazonian name? Go figure. Somewhere in the background noise, which was all static since he was currently fascinated by the woman counting next to him, he heard the countdown begin.
Fifteen.
Well, another year was passing by once again. Nothing new, nothing changed. Some revelations in the last hours, but nothing more.
Ten.
There was that, of course, and the fact that he had made an idiot of himself (which truly should have never been possible considering his pedigree) during the past twenty minutes. His eyes glanced over toward where the Amazonian woman was laughing lightly as her friends, his friends, pulled each other into tight embraces in preparation for the newest year.
Five.
Oh bloody hell. He honestly couldn't fight it anymore. The growing fascination with the woman sitting beside him for his actions. He had been unwilling to acknowledge his attraction at first, but now, with her smile shining so brightly at him. (Not to mention the liberating effects of good firewhiskey.) He reached over, grabbed her shoulder and jerked her toward him with an agility he was a bit surprised he managed while inebriated and firmly planted his lips on hers. Whether by her choice or not, she melted into the action, allowing him to do as he pleased. What was even better was her reciprocation.
Three.
Draco wondered briefly if that floating feeling was because of the alcohol or the kiss.
Two.
Love?
Oh, damn it to bloody hell! He could kiss her forever.
One.
Perhaps it was nice to start the year off by being an 'idiot'.
A/N:I seriously cracked up every five seconds writing this. I was so amused with it that I added more to what was originally there. This 'Astoria' is perhaps one of my favorite interpretations that I have done. This little thing required a bit of research as I oringally didn't know much about the Amazon myths. I truly hope everyone enjoyed this! Please leave me some feedback.
Oh, some of Malfoy's inner ranting was based off of Much Ado About Nothing, my favorite Shakespearean work. Happy New Year everyone!