A/N: I'm rather caught up in another pairing at the moment, and Draco-Hermione stories have slightly palled on me. But I still have a fondness for this story though, so take heart. Reviews make me update faster ^^

It was raining.

She looked around frantically. Nothing seemed familiar. She'd chased her puppy, but when she'd finally caught him and turned to go back, she realised she was lost.

Her puppy whined and wriggled in her arms. Tears starting to her eyes, she clutched his warm body closer. "Mum?" she called, but her voice was thin and weak against the pounding rain. "Daddy?"

She sat down in the middle of the narrow lane and cried.

"What's the matter?" said a voice behind her. She screamed and scrambled to her feet.

Peering out over the hedge was a boy a little older than herself. He had blue eyes and red hair and a lot of freckles.

"I'm lost," she said.

"Oh." He wrinkled his nose. "Don't you live around here? I've seen you sometimes."

"I was chasing Barks," she explained stiffly. "I don't know how to go home."

"Come in then," he said. "My parents will get you home."

She hesitated.

"You wanna stay out here?"

"No, but –"

"Come in, you git. The gate's over this way." But he grinned.

Doubtfully, she followed him into his garden.

"What's your name?" he asked. Strangely, he didn't seem to be wet despite the rain.

"What's yours?" she retorted.

"I'm Ron."

"There's going to be a ball in a week's time."

"Really?" He was knotting his cravat, scowling at the creases in it.

"For me." Astraea was curled up on the bed, watching him dress.

"Huh." He wrenched his coat on.

In the mirror, he caught a faint tightening of Astraea's lips at his brusqueness. However, there was no trace of annoyance when she said, "I thought you might not have known about it."

"You're right. I didn't."

Astraea did purse her lips this time, looking away. "So now you know."

"It would seem so."

Draco knew perfectly well that she was waiting for him to assure her that he would be there, but some perverse spirit was making it very difficult to play up to her expectations.

"Goodbye," he said.

He was almost out of the door when she called, "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I – " She stopped. "Will you be there?"

"Maybe," said the same perverse spirit.

A flash of hurt, quickly hidden, crossed Astraea's face. "All right, then," she said. "I was just wondering."

He shrugged and left.

Wrapping herself in her dressing gown, Astoria sat down on her bed and stared at the rumpled covers.

Draco had been different for the past month. Something had changed between them. He was colder towards her, more irritable and distant and she didn't dare to ask him why. He had always worn this air of untouchability when it came to his personal life and feelings.

She supposed it was just a passing thing. Perhaps someone had irked him or a tenant was giving him problems – though she couldn't imagine a situation where he cared enough about a tenant to be in a bad mood.

Unless she was the one? Had she done anything to anger him? She was sure she hadn't – unless she had. Why didn't he give her a chance to explain or apologise, then?

Standing, she tried to shrug off her thoughts. Probably it was nothing. He would get over it.

But she missed him, even when he was with her. He wasn't the Draco she had come to know, the one who would on rare occasions let her glimpse his days outside the walls of the Establishment, who would talk with her after the loving was done, who made her feel that she might, just might, be special to him.

Even his love-making was different. His touch was more possessive, more fierce, almost as though something she knew nothing of was driving him.

It had thrilled her at first when he had seized her roughly and crushed her to him, kissing her fiercely and tumbling them both onto the bed. She had thought that it meant that he wanted her desperately, maybe was even somewhat afraid of losing her. But now, a month later, she was no longer so sure.

Frustration, that was it. It was faint, but it tinged his behaviour around her. Last night was the perfect example. Unusually, he had stayed for the whole night. She was careful to cover her delight, wondering if it meant that everything was all right again.

She had been wrong. He had held her, yes, but without any gentleness, and the humour that occasionally lurked in his grey eyes was completely gone. He had barely even spoken to her at all.

Was there something he wanted her to do, something that he might be embarrassed to ask for? Men were so peculiarly sensitive about what they did in the bedroom, so insistent on proving their manhood. Draco had never displayed any insecurity, but it could be there all the same.

Astoria smiled, sure that she understood. The next time he came, she would make it clear that she would do anything. Better yet, she would act as though she wanted it, so he wouldn't have to fear that she would think him strange.

If only he would come to the ball…

She tried to push that thought away. It was far better to not expect anything from Draco, especially in his current capricious mood.

But he was different again when he was asleep. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after their last round once he had withdrawn from her. There was a strange intimacy in him sleeping next to her, as though he was comfortable enough with her to let her see him so vulnerable. As she pushed back a stray strand of hair falling over his eyes and tugged the covers over him, she could believe that she was a normal woman with a husb-

I have to be careful, she thought. I'm treading on the most dangerous ground a woman in this house could tread on.

Ringing the bell for a servant to draw a bath for her, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, inhaling his scent that clung still to her pillow and her skin.

The ballroom was once again aglow with light and music. Women clad in daring ball gowns flirted behind their fans while men flirted right back, stealing kisses when they could. Music streamed from the dais where musicians played, although an occasional wrong note proclaimed that yet another musician had been more focused on the women than the music.

Surrounded as she was by men, Astoria kept glancing at the doors. He had not come. He truly had not come. She had had a new dress made in emerald – his favourite colour, and a colour that brought out her eyes – especially for tonight and he had not come. Disappointment filled her mouth with a metallic tang and she almost snapped pettishly at Seamus, but she caught Madame Cerise's sharp gaze and smiled at him instead.

"Dance with me, flower of the night," begged Seamus. "Astraea, star-maiden, dance the first dance with me!"

"What will you give me for it?"

"Am I not enough?"

"Forget him, Astraea," interrupted Boot. "Dance with me."

The prospect of dancing with heavy-footed Boot was enough to put any woman off. She turned back to Seamus, wrinkling her nose. "Promise me more."

"I shall give you my heart. What more can a man give – ah, crap."

Startled at Seamus's abrupt change from cheeky to chagrined, Astoria followed his gaze to the double doors of the ballroom and suddenly a delicious glow stole over her.

Draco had come! He was there, immaculately dressed as always, his gaze sweeping the room for her. He had come to the ball – for her!

Before she could forget herself and run to him, Madame Cerise was at his side. "Welcome, monsieur. It is rare that my ballroom is honoured with your presence."

"The pleasure is all mine," he answered, his eyes still searching the busy scene before him.

"I suppose I've no chance now," said Seamus glumly. Astoria barely heard him.

Draco saw her then, and a faint frown creased his forehead. Turning a shoulder to him, Astoria asked, "What were you saying, my lord?"

Seamus's eyes lit up. "You mean you'll still consider?"

"Here, Astraea, how about me?" said Boot indignantly.

"Depends on what you're offering." She glanced up at Seamus through her eyelashes.

"I – "

"Excuse me," said a voice coolly from behind her, and her heart leapt. "I believe the lady promised me this dance."

"Malfoy, you have got to stop monopolising the women," said Seamus in disgust.

"Oh, come on," said Avery. "The rest of us deserve a turn."

"Yeah, Malfoy," chimed in Boot.

"Perhaps you ought to improve your dress sense, then," said Draco. "It might help ... if anything could."

Boot glanced down involuntarily at his lavender waistcoat and yellow breeches. "What's wrong with this?" he demanded belligerently.

"Oh, nothing at all," said Draco, a faint sneer curling his lips. "Excuse us, please."

The musicians struck up once more in a lively waltz as he led her to the floor. Almost shyly, Astoria looked up. "You came after all," she said.

"Only for you, jewel of my heart," he said sweetly.

Astoria laughed, for she had seen the flash of humour in his eyes. "You are too kind, my lord."

"I figured that it might be amusing to annoy all the other men who want you."

"And was that the only reason?" she said saucily.

"I greatly enjoy the scenery here too." He spun her around, and when she was in his arms once more she saw a rare smile on his face.

He was her Draco again. The thought made her heart leap with relief and she felt so light on her feet that she wondered that she did not float away.

"What scenery?" she breathed, pressing herself against him rather more closely than the dance demanded.

"I have always admired the potted plants," he said.

"And?"

"The lovely music."

She pirouetted. "Anything else, my lord?"

"The charming company," he said blandly. "Where else could I find men of such entertaining conversation such as Avery and Boot?"

Behind them, Astraea saw Avery drunkenly stumble into a table and knock it over. People leapt up from the seats, exclaiming in annoyance as glass shattered everywhere.

"Is that all?" she asked.

He looked at her enigmatically, then flicked her nose. "Take a guess."

Her heart warmed at the careless, intimate gesture. Laughing, she let the music sweep the two of them away into their own little world.

The Rules of the Establishment forbade the women from spending the whole evening dancing with the same man. Astoria didn't mind. Dancing the whole night with Draco would be more happiness than she could hold.

At the memory of his smile, she automatically sought him out among the crowd of men. There he was, standing to one side with a few other men, holding a glass of wine and watching her. She tossed her head and flirted saucily with Seamus, her current partner, who promptly overdid his friendliness. Inwardly, she sighed. One more dance to go. Then it would be the last dance, after which she would leave with him.

Circling the ballroom in James Peverell's arms, Astoria looked around for Draco once more. He had left his place, probably to refill his drink.

And after this dance ended, he would come to her, to claim her hand for the final dance and to mark her as his own for tonight; tonight and many nights after…

"What are you thinking of, my pretty?" inquired Peverell, smiling.

"Nothing but you, of course."

His hand tightened on her waist. "Merlin, woman, do you have any idea what you do to a man when you look up at him like that?"

"My lord?" But she could not help laughing as he spun her around, her hair swirling around her shoulders.

He pulled her closer to him than the dance strictly required as the music slowed. "I think you know what I'm talking about," he said meaningfully as she felt his hardness press against her thigh.

Laughter bubbled out of her. Oh, life was good tonight. She was young and she was pretty and she was wanted and she had Draco…

…Draco…

Her eyes widened. Draco was across the room – and he was not getting a drink. He was dancing.

And he was dancing with Cat.

The main source of income for nobles used to be their lands, which were rented out to tenants. Trade was considered lowering; merchants - or Cits - were not considered bon ton.