AN: This is for the Quidditch Fanfiction League. Prompt is Borgin and Burkes'. 915 words.
The fact that a witch was cloaked on the front steps of Borgin and Burke's wasn't the surprising part of her appearance that rainy Tuesday morning. What was surprising about her presence was the identity of the witch.
With a grass-green cloak that matched the eyes her family was named for, Astoria Greengrass was known around Knockturn Alley for being an enemy. A traitor to her family's ideals, Astoria was a young political activist against the Dark Arts and everything Knockturn Alley thrived upon.
When Mr. Borgin saw this, he was most displeased. The youngest Greengrass could quite possibly destroy them. She had power amongst the purebloods, something Arthur Weasley lacked, and was no doubt the rat that had led to so many raids after the war. Her parents were Death Eaters and had a few of their own special artifacts that Mr. Borgin was very interested. She'd know where all the best were, and would know them for what they were.
Still, the young witch entered the shop, and Mr. Borgin found himself dreading what she was doing.
The initial arrival was not as dramatic as one might think. The old slightly-rusted bell rang feebly, warning Mr. Borgin of Astoria's arrival. The young witch gently pushed the door closed behind her and looked around the room with twisted wonder and disgust. She turned to an aisle of items that was partially in view of the storefront windows. She trailed her finger along the dust and grime for a moment before removing it.
She took in every item with those Greengrass eyes. She then approached the counter, her brows knitted together and her lips thinly pressed. There was a strange gleam in her eye that Mr. Borgin couldn't decipher. It reminded him of the objects that glimmered sinisterly across the room.
"Astoria Greengrass," Mr. Borgin drawled as he leaned heavily on his cane. It was similar to Lucius Malfoy's in design— except that he was not so posh or foolish to have a snake's head on his wand. "What business do you have here?"
"I've come looking for a record on one of your customers," Astoria said, lifting her chin and setting her green glare forward. "A Mr. Draco Malfoy."
"I don't release that information," Dr. Borgin said, a smug grin on his face. "Customer confidentiality."
"I just need a record of what he's bought from you," Astoria said. "Nothing else. No one else. I don't care about this place nearly as much as you think I do."
"Like we don't know you're the reason for all the raids on the homes of noble purebloods," Mr. Borgin hissed. "Believe it or not, I have informants. And rumor has it you're one for the Ministry of Magic."
"I'm not planning to rat Draco out!"
Mr. Borgin grinned. He'd gotten the little Greengrass angry. Excellent. He was sure there were a few people in Knockturn Alley who would be happy to see that.
"I need it to see what he has," Astoria said. "I know he has a collection and he won't tell me anything about it, not even now that we're. . ."
Mr. Borgin watched as the little Greengrass twisted a ring on her left ring finger. It was of a similar design to traditional Malfoy and Black engagement rings.
"You want the dirt on your fiancé?" Mr. Borgin asked, even though that was quite frankly the least of his questions.
"Not quite," Astoria said, continuing to twist her ring. "It's nearly Christmas, you see, and I wanted to give him something for his collection. I don't understand it— I find it repulsive and disturbing, actually— but I thought I might as well get something he doesn't have."
Mr. Borgin was not sure how to respond to such a thing. He considered the witch carefully.
"Wait here one minute," he said.
He then walked into the back room, leaving Astoria alone in the empty shop. She glanced down at her ring, finally aware that she had been twisting it in the first place.
There were stars carved into the ring, and the alignment of silver stars and emeralds made a M shape. The ring was traditional, according to pureblood culture and custom. It looked like everything Astoria hated, but represented who she loved.
Somehow, Draco always managed to do that for her. There was nothing more beautiful than hatred being transfigured into love. It was a magic beyond what either could do with their wand.
Love was like that, Astoria had discovered. She glanced outside at the snow covering Knockturn Alley. It was already halfway through December. She needed to buy him the perfect gift. He'd changed so much for her, ever since that night she threatened to walk out the door, and ever since she hadn't regretted it.
It was the least she could manage.
The shuffling of Mr. Borgin with his cane alerted Astoria, and she whirled around to see the old man stagger forward to the counter, an old black leather book in his previously unoccupied hand. He slammed it down on the counter and surveyed the witch with his dark eyes.
"I think you will find this most enlightening, Miss Greengrass," Mr. Borgin said. "Or should I say the future Madam Malfoy?"
Astoria slowly nodded. There were tears of appreciation in her light green eyes. "Thank you."
Mr. Borgin opened the book and turned it open to a Malfoy, Draco. He ripped it out and handed it to Astoria.
"Merry Christmas."