Seas of Emerald

By Shahrezad1

Summary: Not that he was, in fact, running away. Just disappearing for a while. And he was of age. So it shouldn't make any difference. No, far better to go (mostly) Muggle. A Drastoria fanfic from a different direction.

Disclaimer: A-Draco went a-courtin', he found a lady Green, he was so happy for her, he made her Malfoy Queen. But J.K. owns the story, I canna claim but naught, if I did the court would catch me; my money tied in knots.

(A horrible poem, but you get the idea. XD )

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Chapter 2

She awoke with the scent of herbs and the clean, crisp fragrance of growing plants in her senses. That wasn't altogether surprising, situated as she was in a cottage of her own next to a greenhouse that was hers and hers alone. But the aromatic welcoming was stronger than usual, as though the world was indicating that something special would be happening today. Life changing, even.

Calling out a grateful, if silent, thank you to the heavens, she slipped into her usual trousers, jumper and gardening gloves among the dawn's buttery light. It was as smooth as cream and as sweet as marmalade, highlighting the smattering of farm machinery she could see out in the fields and already hard at work. And echoing the electric lights being switched off within shop windows down the lane, one at a time until the morning sun would fully take over.

It was this kind of life that she lived for. The simplicity of it and the sheer joy of doing a job and knowing that it is well and truly done. Astoria smiled warmly as she took in one last, full glance, then entered the domed building with its frosted glass to start on her usual morning routine. She watered the plants that needed repeated watering, then made sure that those which only required moisture had not received too much or developed fungus. Hummus was added where needed.

Grateful as always for the magical aspect of the building, she wordlessly indicated that the glass let a little more morning sunlight in—but not the present chill of morning dew. It had rained a bit last night, and it wouldn't do to expose anything to the cold too soon. And then she was off to check the other half of the greenhouse, with its varying needs and mewling cries. Meat was provided where it was required from a portable ice box that she filled once a week, and other more magical support was made for plants that needed increased care.

It was the least she could do with plants that were out of their element; Magical beings of root and leaf that would soon be harvested and transported to buyers in Diagon Alley and elsewhere. Hidden behind layers of spells so that the interior of the greenhouse would not seem to be larger than it was, and so that her other occupation could be hidden in peace. A building detail which was supported by the existence of an office/ supply closet between the two rooms, the doorway to the latter hidden from view.

Then she was back home and changing into something more suitable for town and her usual round of deliveries. Into her truck she discreetly levitated two bushels of vegetables for the grocer and the local inn, "Darby's Place." And then in went another batch of this month's perennials for "The Galley Rose." What few tourists they received seemed to appreciate the buds, and flowers made the storefronts look cheerier despite the dim threatening of autumn on the horizon.

Her colorful knee-length sundress reflected this optimistic outlook, paired with a cream cardigan for the slight morning chill. Then up went her coal-black hair, wavy not-quite-curls messily tucked into a pair of mahogany chopsticks. One of which was really her wand, had anyone taken the time to notice.

No makeup, no beauty charms, no jewelry. That was and always had been the way to go, a detail that had made both her sister and mother sigh. But her father had only ever smiled.

And then Astoria was ready.

Climbing in the contraption, she held her breath as she always did when she turned the thing on. It was half in fascination and half in terror that she drove the auto, but she'd gotten to the point where it didn't take her much time to start the monster and get it going. Although townsfolk joked that they always knew when she was coming—no one else drove that slow, neither villagers nor tourists. It was a well and good thing that they lived as far into the country as they did for that fact alone. Otherwise she might cause an accident with her over-caution.

On down the road she went.

The drive was fairly short, as she was no mean distance from Lanconshire's main thoroughfare, but it still allowed herself a moment to collect herself. Then, with the sun full up, Astoria made her deliveries. Oh, it was mostly barter out here in the country. She was paid a small, unnecessary sum (she had no rent to pay, grew most of her own food, and had be-spelled her clothing to last a long time and resist wear and tear), to help with utilities and power usage. And mostly to keep the townspeople from wondering too much about her means of support. But all the rest came in small presents, pressed into her hand at the last minute or discovered in her truck when she turned to leave.

If she didn't know any better she would almost take it as the kind of tribute people used to leave for elves and the like. But she was nothing like the magical creatures that she'd grown up learning about in books and having seen in the Forbidden Forest.

Then it was her last stop; her usual stop at the local public house and inn. There her exchange would be met with breakfast, her one meal of meat and hot food that she didn't have to cook herself, magical or otherwise. Any other meals she chose to take there would require payment, but the first was completely on the house. And after a full morning of daily chores and essential tasks, it was nice to take advantage of the respite.

"Morning," she called cheerily at the bar in an optimistic reflection of habit, and waited for a coming response. Which could, of course, come from any number of people. Gerald, the pub landlord, watched the place at night and acted as both head of the house and bruiser should a man or woman need tossing. During the day it was his wife's domain, a cheery lady with apple cheeks named Lily who set the place up as a regular bed and breakfast. But when Lily was occupied with the kitchen it was teenage Madeline that ran the register, both of her brothers away at University.

Although the distance never stopped them from flirting outrageously with Astoria when they came home for breaks, never mind the fact that they knew they would be returning before the week was out. And life continued as though uninterrupted.

Madeline came to the front, auburn hair pulled back in dual braids. Despite the small stud in the side of her nose she still had the village look about her, from her sturdy trousers and bleached apron to the rolled up sleeves of her blouse. A bit of flour smudged her nose as though she'd been finishing up the morning baking with her mother before Astoria interrupted, but Maddie went about like that often enough that she didn't much care.

Particularly when she knew she was the one most likely to inherit the place.

"Tori," the ginger girl smiled and wiped her hands on her apron one more time, just in case, before clasping hands with the black-haired adult across the counter. Then she was busy taking the plastic milk crate from the latter girl's arms, "perfect timing. Mum's about to start on the luncheon preparations and is about ready to put together the soup course."

"What? At only eight in the morning?" Astoria asked, laughing, although they both knew that this was only empty prattle between the two of them. When the witch had moved to Lanconshire she'd been surprised by a variety of different habits that the people had here, the first of which being preparing everything well in advance. But by now she knew that if you weren't prepared early then you would never be. And the midday meal came sooner for some than others, not to mention the tea which was held in between.

"Pah. Eight isn't morning, you should know that by now," she girl grinned. Then her expression shifted ever-so slightly, "although some'n won't agree."

Ah. That's what she'd been looking for. News, gossip, what have you.

"Really?"

"Yep," Madeline nodded, crate perched on her hip, "we got a slug-a-bed around three in the morn.' Da threw him into the Rosey Suite."

That made Astoria's eyebrows jump, "the Rosey Suite? Was he a tourist, then, or a businessman?"

"Da doesn't know. But the man paid up full for well'n a month! And in our best rooms, too," she indicated her bafflement, "Da heard no car coming in, nor any sound at all until he walked in, easy as you please."

That sent a stone to her stomach. No car, huh? Well, she couldn't rule out everything yet. There were still a few other options besides magic.

"A hiker, then? Or a man on a bicycle?"

"A businessman, more like. Blonde hair and tired. He said he'd had a long trip," with that last tip Maddie left her to her usual table, moving behind the barrier wall to deposit Astoria's usual present. Then she went off to refill the tea in a couple of elderly ladies cups; they were retired, widowed farmwives, both of them, and rose and lived by the rising of the sun. Then she took some of Astoria's flowers and cut them neatly into small bouquets for the tables, a sunny tactic aimed at improving tips and increasing guest flow.

Meanwhile leaving Astoria to her thoughts.

That didn't last long.

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AN: Sort of a cliffhanger. Well, not really. *laughs*