Birthday
The first snow flurries of the season danced whimsically in the wind, prolonging their short lived lives before hitting the ground and melting into slush. Soon the vast grounds would be blanketed in a pure white cover like it did every year, causing the already magnificent landscape to appear all the more enchanting. The very thought of such a beautiful scene made Draco nauseous.
He was so tired of the manor and its extensive layout, and the inevitable changing of the seasons just subtly reminded him of how much time he had spent at his childhood home. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to elude his father's domineering grasp, especially as the holidays loomed ever nearer and "family" became more "important". Imprisoned once again in his own home, this time due to parental overbearing rather than court order, Draco started slipping back into a grey depression. He spent most of his time sleeping, or locked up in the family's immense library. He was ashamed to say that between his year of house arrested and his current situation, he had read enough books to possibly rival that detestable Mudblood Granger.
Another roll of sickness crashed through him as he accidently compared himself to that bushy haired know-it-all, and tried to shake the thought off by switching the shoulder that carried his broom. Flying was the only activity that gave him any kind of solace, but lately he hardly had the heart for it. After only a quarter of an hour he tired of the activity that he used to enjoy so much, and landed deep within the grounds, hoping to get lost. Unfortunately, his feet carried him back to the manor without thinking, knowing the landscape better than anyone.
Soon, the large manor came into view, causing Draco to sneer instinctively. In a matter of minutes he'd be back inside, fair game to Lucius' haranguing and a witness to his mother's sorrow.
It wasn't that Draco didn't care for his parents. He certainly loved his mother. As a child he was never left with any doubt that he was his mother's pride and joy. She doted upon him unconditionally, spending more time with her son than did most women of their social standings. Draco of course lavished in the attention, and was more than happy to spend his time with her, making her laugh and having her sing to him. But his father foresaw such intense affection between mother and son as detrimental to his upbringing. He remembered as a young boy hearing his parents row over him, his father insisting that further coddling would turn him into a soft and feminine man. Draco remembered his mother crying a lot about such things, unable to ignore or hold back her affection for a willing son. At age nine the rowing between his parents was so bad that Draco, fearing for his mother's health, pulled away from her and started to take up his father's bidding. The action seemed to work, as the fights stopped and Lucius became much easier to live with, but Draco couldn't help but see the defeat grow in his mother's eyes as they continued to grow apart through the years as she watched her happy son grow into a mold of her husband.
During the year of his house arrest, while his father was locked away in Azkaban, Draco and his mother had begun to reconnect. Narcissa had supported her son whole heartedly in the first year, ecstatic that her son was making the best of the situation and trying to pull the family out of financial ruin. She had been even happier that, as her son, Draco presented situations and ideas to his mother, asking for her advice. Lucius had never once approached her on such matters, insistent on keeping the traditional social spheres and she had been touched that Draco sought out her opinion. Although Draco hated being locked up, banished from the world in humiliation, it hadn't quite felt like the prison sentence he thought it would. His mother assured that he had plenty to do, and she acted like an advisory for the family business, going out to meetings with willing buyers as Draco was left to the confines of the manor. She was very good at striking deals, and always returned to the manor in a happy mode, satisfied with a job well done and helping out her son.
But all that changed the moment Lucius returned to the manor. The close partnership the two shared was replaced with once again simply being Mrs. Malfoy and Malfoy heir. His father left no doubt about who was in charge, and he made it clear that despite their dire straits, business was to be conducted as usual.
Lucius loved his family the same way he loved everything that he owned. If they did exactly what he said he could be a rather doting husband and father. Yet, if even threatened with a challenge he became merciless. It was a rather good trait for a business man, a rather ruddy one for a loved one.
Draco had a feeling his father didn't know how to handle having an adult son. It was Draco's duty to carry on the family responsibilities. This is something that Lucius had engrained in his son since birth. However, now that the time had come for Draco to take up that mantle, Lucius was reluctant to let go. The two rowed constantly, and though Lucius retained the upper hand as head of the household, he no longer had the authority to punish his son, leaving them at a bitter crossroad.
Draco drudged through the grounds, dragging his feet childishly to stall the inevitableness of going inside. It was cold and he had neglegted to put on his jacket, having not gotten back into the seasonable habit just yet. He was just about to move from the lush grass over to the long and narrow driveway when he heard the unmistakable squishing sound from underneath his favorite pair of boots, coupled with a rather distinct smell.
"I hate that bloody peacock!" he shouted, trying to scrape off the waste on the grass before continuing onward. The white bird squawked in reply from somewhere on the grounds. The accursed animal symbolized all the frivolity his father reveled in, trying to prove to the world of the Malfoys' continued wealth while depleting the non replenishing resources of what little money they had left. Draco didn't dare try to calculate how much longer they had until they were truly bankrupt at the rate his father was going to.
Sighing, Draco trudged through the doors of the manor which opened up upon recognizing a master. Deep down he felt desperate to do something, yet continued to feel powerless at doing so.
"Draco, is that you dear?" Draco heard his mother call from the conservatory. He stopped in his mindless progression and headed her direction.
"Yes, Mother," he replied peaking his head into the room to see her sitting primly on her favorite white couch. She was as beautiful as ever, yet her eyes continued to carry the burden of a troubled life.
"Are you ready for Pansy's party? It starts in half an hour," his mother reminded. Draco scowled.
"I'm not going to her ruddy party. I can't think of anything more tedious to waste my time with, and that includes sitting here and doing nothing," he stated firmly.
"Darling, come now," his mother urged, patting the wooden piano bench that sat next to her. Draco exhaled loudly and obediently took the seat. "Acacia is one of my oldest friends. And you and Pansy have such a history together. Think of everything she did for you when you were back that first year. You wouldn't miss out on her birthday just because you drifted apart a little, would you?"
Draco snorted softly at his mother's subtle understatements. True, Pansy had been one of the few people he saw consistently during his house arrest. She would visit a few times a week to bemoan Draco's misfortune, and then went about spewing trash talk and gossip about everyone else. She seemed to love the fact that she knew where he was at all times, and she seemed to think she was taking care of him. Draco suffered through her visits, knowing that with a few soft words she was always willing to go to bed with him. She was always a rather pretentious shag, moaning and screaming too loudly, usually doing nothing but laying on her back. Sometimes the fucking wasn't even worth having to be around her, but he indulged her talk of "their future" with noncommittal answers that kept her coming back.
Since he'd been reprieved of his punishments, Draco hardly ever saw her. There were far more entertaining ways to get laid with far less obnoxious women than Pansy. Despite his perpetual infidelity to her, however, Pansy still held her and Draco up to couple status. She seemed to think Draco was going through some wild phase, and that he proved his unbridled love for her by being the only woman he always went back to. This had a scary ring of truth to it. Although he found her continuously annoying, he had carried a sexual, semi-emotional relationship with her for the last six years. He couldn't really explain why he kept going to her. Partially out of habit, partially out of expectation. Both of his parents wanted him to marry her. The very thought made him sick.
"I don't know, Mother," he sighed, trying to come up with some excuse not to go. Despite the fact that he was a superb liar, he found it nearly impossible to trick his mother, both because he didn't have the heart to lie to her most times and that she saw right through him when he did.
"Why don't you play me a song on the piano? That always used to put you in a good mood, and then you'll feel more apt to going to the party," his mother suggested happily. She loved to hear her son play music.
"Mother, I doubt a concerto will make me anymore willing to be nice to Pansy," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
"No, you will be nice to Pansy because I order it."
Lucius Malfoy walked into the conservatory with a slick smile that didn't reach his icy eyes.
"Hello, dear," Narcissa said automatically, jumping up to place a kiss on her husband's cheek before taking his traveling cloak and walking stick.
"The Parkinsons mean a lot to this family, and I expect you to be on your best and most gentlemanly behavior," his father demanded.
"If they're so meaningful to us, why aren't you going?" Draco asked, a hint of juvenile whine garnishing his question.
"I have important business to attend to," Lucius said firmly, ending the line of questioning. Draco snorted. More like he had to act like he had business to attend. Most men of his supposed status didn't attend such trifling events as a young woman's birthday held in the middle of the day.
"Speaking of," Narcissa interjected, placing herself between the two Malfoy men's stares. "That Wilkinson man was here again asking for you. He seems to think you may be interested in investing in this invention he has. It's the third time he's come by and his idea is rather ingenious…"
"Absolutely not," Lucius stated, cutting her off with the raising of his gloved hand. "And how dare you suggest such a thing. Do you want to ruin this family's reputation? Wilkinson is a low class Mudblood who further soiled himself by marrying a Muggle woman. How stupid can you be, Narcissa?"
Draco watched his mother sit back down curtly, her already white complexion paling further.
"No, I have much bigger, more proper plans for us. Stewart Miller is in town for some business prospects," his father explained. Draco perked his head up. The Millers were an old Pureblood family of whom the Malfoys had been friends with for centuries. A few generations ago they had moved to America to settle down on an enormous track of land in Texas, and were now one of the richest Wizarding families in the western hemisphere. Rhett was the present patriarch of the family, and although he was rather eccentric in taste and dress, was still a brilliant businessman. His father going into dealings with him could actually yield in favorable results.
"See, Cissy, even the boy can see the merits of this. Why don't you leave the business up to the men like it belongs?" Lucius asked harshly, before turning out of the room and into the depths of the house. Draco watched his mother clutch at her chest lightly while her eyes began to shimmer with tears. He was filled with the urge to wrap an arm around her, and assure her of all the good things she had done for the family. Indeed, if it weren't for her, Draco was sure both he and his father would be dead. He wanted to tell her how much he loved and valued her, and to promise her that he would find a way to make everything alright.
But he didn't. He wasn't sure if he was even capable of doing such a thing. Instead, he did the only thing he could. He spun around without a word and placed his fingers expertly on the grand piano, moving them proficiently in a grand melody.
"So, when did you want to leave?"
Astoria had never seen so much pink in her entire life. Every tree in Parkinson Park had been adorned with a light rose sash. Tents and tables were draped in shocking magenta covers, causing diaphanously pink rays to filter through. Even the house-elves were dressed in white and cherry scraps of rags as they carried around strawberry champagne on their little trays. Great bouquets of roses and pansies adorned every table, and flower petals rained from the enclaves of the tents, disappearing just inches before hitting the table.
"Oh, how lovely! Acacia sure out did herself this time!" Phoebe exclaimed.
"You're not kidding," Astoria muttered, thinking the scene looked hideous. Going to her cousin Pansy's birthday was not the sort of thing Astoria ever wanted to do, let alone during the first week of living on her own. Astoria had just finished moving into the small yet private flat above Slug and Jiggers Apothecary in Diagon Alley. It was the perfect little place for her to live and work, with a fully stocked potion selection just below her feet. The wretched smell transcended upwards into her flat, causing her sparse possessions to smell like rotten eggs and bad cabbage, but there were ways around that. Everything was neatly unpacked and perfectly placed, and she had big plans for her future projects. However, her work was impeded by her mother's end of the bargain, and Astoria was dragged away at the first social event Phoebe could get an invite to.
Astoria vividly remembered these events from her childhood. Daphne always equated having a cousin her age as having an instant friend, and always prepared determinedly for their meetings. Astoria didn't have to collect many of her own birthdays to realize there was nothing friendly about her cousin. Every family event had left Daphne in tears as Pansy teased her about her weight and looks. Pansy had viewed Astoria as a little runt she could boss around to do her bidding, steal toys from, and place blame on any wrong doing she herself committed. That outlook changed the year the cousins realized that Astoria's closed fist could out do any feeble slaps or hair pulls Pansy could muster.
As all girls do when they reach a certain age, Pansy and Astoria's battle shifted from physical over to mental. As the years progressed, their mind terrorism escalated. Astoria was sharper and wittier than her cousin, but Pansy practiced much more often. Astoria's main goal was to just be left alone, while Pansy took a more offensive route.
Needless to say, once they entered school Astoria had managed to avoid her cousin's gatherings. Pansy hardly ever dared confronting Astoria at school, even with her brood of Slytherin friends, as Astoria could always win a verbal sparring match. Instead, Pansy discredited her cousin quietly, spreading subtle rumors and hints questioning her Purity, just in case those in the House didn't already wonder.
Now, through some twist of events, Astoria felt like she was back where she started, forced to attend Pansy's stupid parties and play nice. Well, she had to attend anyways.
"Astoria, go place Pansy's present on the table and come greet your cousin," her mother directed with a wave of her hand. Astoria rolled her eyes and marched over to the large table over flowing with gifts. She dumped it hard on the ground, grinning in satisfaction as the box smashed into other over decorated parcels, crashes and shatterings of different calibers stemming from the violent contact. She spun around happily, digging her hands into her over coat as she joined the rest of her family in the tent.
The second she stepped under the covering the temperature rose to a toasty degree. Pansy and her friends had all discarded their jackets on hanging pegs, and started showcasing their pink and white gowns to one another. Another self satisfying smile filled her face as she shrugged off her own coat, hanging it up herself rather than waiting for one of the house elves.
"Good heavens, Astoria!" her mother hissed, clutching her chest. She wore a short and sleeveless black dress, coupled with black leggings that ended just above her ankles and her cutting jet heels.
"Yes, Mother?" Astoria inquired, raising her thick black eyebrow.
"This is a pink and white party! How could you… you know the invitation said…" her mother fumbled.
"I'm here, I'm wearing a dress and pumps, what more do you want?" Astoria asked, shaking out her feathered hair and wrapping a dark shawl around her bare arms.
"Ah, my sister Phoebe, you're here!" Mrs. Parkinson's false high voice sang. "And my lovely nieces Daphne and…Astoria."
Astoria smirked as she watched her aunt's face waver, her forced delight stressed even further at the sight of her niece's dark attire to the sun dress party.
"Wow, Astoria," Pansy's sneering voice called out from behind her mother. She wore a pink satin gown that reminded Astoria of a second string ballerina. "You look positively morbid! Attending a funeral anytime soon?"
A flutter of laughter filled the tent as Pansy's cronies rallied behind their leader's joke.
"One can always fantasize," Astoria replied coolly, causing the high pitched giggles to cease. Pansy's pug like face fell into a grimace at the off handed comment.
"Ugh, come on. I'm ready to go open my gifts. I can't wait to get my hands on that diamond necklace I've been bugging Father about. He said it was too expensive but I told him I'd absolutely die if I didn't have it…"
"Hopefully Uncle Richard won't disappoint and we'll have a funeral after all," Astoria muttered under her breath as she happily watched her cousin and her posse walked away. She turned on her heel to see her mother facing her with arms crossed.
"Well, would you look at that? Aggression to alienation in under a minute! A new personal record, I believe my work here is done." Astoria started to head out of the tent as fast as she could, preparing to Apparate home as quick as her wand could carry her, when her mother caught her expertly by the arm.
"Astoria Greengrass, so help me you will find one person at this party to talk nice to or I can promise you I will fill up your calendar with so many tea parties, art galas, and charity functions you won't have time to use the loo, let alone tinker with your chemistry sets!" her mother hissed into her ear while maintaining a perfectly cheerful expression. Astoria shot her mother the dirtiest look she could muster before ripping her arm out of her mother's grip. Quite used to the angry glare, Phoebe left her daughter behind to chat with her pug faced sister-in-law.
Astoria stuck her tongue out at her retreating mother until left completely alone in the welcoming tent. Huffing indignantly, she made her way out into the snow and into the solitude of the tree line.
"The Ministry sure knew what it was doing when they didn't throw me in jail," Draco muttered under his breath as he looked nervously behind his shoulder. "Leaving me with her was a much better punishment."
He had just spent the last hour standing by Pansy's side, her grip practically wearing through his pinstriped suit. She snogged him ruthlessly after opening every gift, in front of the whole party, as though he had given all of them to her himself. In all honesty he couldn't say which gift was from him. His mother had even forged his signature on the card. He managed to slip away after she had run into the house to see how her new dress robes looked, backing away from the doting group stealthily. He didn't know what excuse he could use to leave the event, even for so short a time. Pansy was bound to notice his absence eventually, even with the piles of presents to distract her. All he knew was he desperately needed a break from the excruciating woman. Besides, Pansy would undoubtedly lap up any halfcocked reasoning he threw her way if he complimented her right.
Disgusted with the situation, Draco walked through the grounds of Parkinson Park, weaving in and out of the ancient trees, sneering at the frilly adornments. He received a dreadful premonition of his inherited estate covered in such absurd frivolity. He shuddered deeply as he walked further into the grounds.
Hands pushed deep in his pockets he stared at the ground, kicking a rock or two as he dragged his feet angrily for the second time that afternoon. He went to push a rather spiky looking branch when he paused curiously. It wasn't a branch at all, but a very expensive looking pair of black heels, draped with black leggings. Draco furrowed his brow as he walked closer to investigate, when a shout rang from above, followed by a figure falling gracefully from the sky.
"Hey!"
Draco let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing his startled heart as the person landed in front of him. In shock, it took him a few moments to recognize his assailant.
"Shit, Greengrass!" Draco yelled. "You nearly scared the life out of me."
"Well, stay away from my shoes then," she replied. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to break in a pair of stilettos?"
"What the hell were you doing up in that tree, anyways?" he asked, his heart finally starting to beat normally. "You have a pack of cloves hidden up in a birds nest?"
"Very funny," she stated, rolling her long wand between her fingers. "But as you can see I no longer have to stoop to such ventures. This was my escape tree when I was little. It was the only place I could find to duck my cousin during forced sleepovers. I expect that's what you're doing here. Escaping a sleepover."
"Something like that," he spat back, leaning against the grand girth of the tree. Finally calm, he managed to drink in the sight of the young woman in front of him. She looked far different than she had just a week before. Then she looked like a sallow faced porcelain doll in girlish clothes. Now she wore a tight black dress that showed off her sharp angled curves and ended quiet abruptly down her thighs. She no longer made him think about the anti-social school girl who faded so efficiently in the background during their adolescence. As she bent over to dust off her pointed heels, he found his thoughts to be of a quite adult nature indeed.
"So, that's what the kids are wearing to a formal pink and white party these days?" he inquired, not bothering to hide his lusty gaze.
"Well, you know me, always trying to fit in with the crowd," she retorted sarcastically, shaking a brown leaf out of her black sheet of hair.
"So I noticed. You always like to cause quite the scandal wherever you go," Draco stated, folding his arms lazily.
"Ugh, if my garb is the most interesting topic of conversation at this party than I'm glad I spent it up a tree," she sneered.
"Don't flatter yourself. You were a distant second behind all the girls guessing exactly how many karats of gold and diamonds were in Pansy's necklace," he explained with a grin, enjoying the horrific look that filtered across her face.
"How dreadful," she shuttered, leaning against her own tree. He smirked with pleasure as she watched her sultry green eyes flick over his own body.
"You know, you are hardly one to talk. I don't see any pink on you," she pointed out.
"I'm wearing flamingo boxers," he replied quickly. "You're more than free to check if you don't believe me."
"I'm good, thanks," she responded, cocking an eyebrow.
"Your loss," he shrugged. "Wearing this suit may not exactly go with the theme of the party, but it does carry with it its own perks." He reached into the right flap of his jacket and pulled out a sleek silver flask, engraved with the Malfoy family crest.
"And my mother worried I wouldn't make any friends at this party," Astoria said with a grin, holding out her hand. Draco pulled the flask away from her quickly.
"My sharing is contingent on you being pleasant. I reserve the right to withhold if you're your usual, bitchy self, Greengrass."
Astoria scowled.
"Fine. Now quit being a baby and hand it over." Draco grinned before taking a deep swig and passing it over to the impatient woman in front of him. She took her own impressively deep gulp, before wiping her face with her bare arm.
"Don't call me 'Greengrass'. I'm not impressed by your macho, surname calling, hippogriff shite," she stated, handing the flask back over.
"This is you being nice?" Draco inquired, taking a second drink.
"Yes. I'm allowing us to be on first name basis, Draco," she retorted, reaching out for another go. Something about the sultry, raspy way she said his name caused an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. She stood so fearlessly in front of him, barefoot and clad only in that slinky black dress. Her snarky attitude and flippant demeanor made her just as infuriating as her cousin, but in much more intriguing way. He found himself wanting to pin her against the tree and wipe that smirk right off her haughty face. Her refusal to fear or be submissive to him was both irritating and challenging, and he wanted to get under her skin just as much as she was starting to get under his. Recalling from the common room one of her pet-peeves, he placed a casual simper on his face, pushing his blonde hair off his forehead.
"Whatever you say, Azzy," he sneered, giving her the first nickname that came to mind. Her reaction was instant and immensely satisfying. Draco could see a bubbling anger billow in her sharp green eyes at the appellation, and her square jaw clenched firmly.
"Don't you dare call me that," she ordered in an arrogant tone.
"Yeah?" Draco asked, moving in close, forcing her back against the tree. He placed both hands against the bark, imprisoning her in his hold without actually touching her. He caught a whiff of a clean scent of leafy plants, coupled with a ragged intake of breath. "And how do you suggest stopping me, Azzy?"
A peaceful look crossed over her face as the anger in her eyes seemed to subside. She gently reached out her hand and took hold of his thin black tie, rubbing the silk material through her dainty fingers. She tugged on it gently, pulling him closer so their bodies touched slightly. He felt a sharp jolt at the contact.
"By finding a few, very tender places to shove my two inch spiked heels in to," she purred, yanking on his tie like a short leash. Draco couldn't help but grin, despite believing her threat far from hollow. He backed away slowly, watching his tie run smoothly through Astoria's fingers as he did. He leaned back against his own tree, before tossing the flask back over to her. She curtseyed properly, before spinning off the cap and taking another drain.
"So, what did you find within yourself to give the Birthday Girl?" Draco asked, ready to switch gears. Astoria paused after finishing her hit, eyes looking to the side slightly.
"I didn't poison her birthday cake," she suggested simply, the corner of her lips curving in a smile.
"How generous of you."
"Yes. It's what I get her every year but she rather seems to enjoy staying alive so I figure I'm in the clear."
They both smirked as they passed the flask between each other again.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure Mother got her something off that hideously hollow list she sends out with her invitations," Astoria said, finishing the answer. "Heaven forbid she asks for something she could actually use, like a book or an enema."
Draco snorted while he took his sip, causing the clear liquor to spill out of his flask. Astoria grinned at his reaction, snatching the flask out of his grasp before he could spill any more.
"Oh, bugger," she said softly, turning the flask over. "Empty."
"Hmm," Draco hummed, grabbing the container back from her. "It looks like we have two choices. Either we can pack up this little party, go back to the tents, our mothers and Pansy and join the celebration like two good little socialites…" he paused to watch the look of distain cross her increasingly attractive features with a grin.
"Or you can put your newly reestablished wand to good use and keep the spirits flowing."
A genuine smile crossed Astoria's face. Draco was quite certain it was due to the half flask of vodka he had just consumed on a nearly empty stomach, but he couldn't help but think that the sight of the stubborn, Unpure girl in front of him, waving her wand and casting a Replenishing Spell in her dark voice was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.