Author's Note:

My shout outs and dedications: So, is this Beside Moonlight the same one who left the first review? I was going to message you back, but you weren't signed in, and it confused me. =D I would like to tell everyone that Lady Elizabeth of New York left my so many reviews (half of my current reviews are from her!), it positively encouraged me to keep writing. Thank you; you're amazing!

So, I'm trying to be as absolutely cannon compliant as possible. BUT, there's nothing cannon (that I've found) that says what Draco's job is post Hogwarts. There is this wicked cool picture of Draco as a healer by chouette-e on [use the powers of google magic and summon that image, do it, do it now!]...and I've always kind of liked the idea of him as a healer. It's potion-y, repentance-y, and kind of...well, perfect for him. I've also seen a lot of Draco taking over the ruined family business, a Hogwarts teacher, a potion maker/apothecary owner, employed by the Ministry, a detective...What, dear readers, should I choose as his profession? I took some liberties with Marcus Flint's profession...I was thinking how hard it would be for a blue-collar worker to fit into marrying someone upper-class like Daphne.

Anyway, enjoy:

August 4th

After last practice's broken nose incident, Gwenog relented on the bludgers and had Ginny working on speed and agility drills. Ginny circled the pitch in a weird nose-dive, high-climb pattern. She waved as she passed Astoria, who was working one-on-one with Gretchen Smith. Gwenog had finally realized she was getting zero practice because the other two chasers never passed her the quaffle.

"Astoria, do you think we stand a chance this year?" Gretchen tossed the quaffle, and it went wide of the hoop. Astoria reacted without thinking, sliding into reverse to stop the ball's movement. She reached out and swatted the ball back to her teammate.

"I don't know. I guess, against the Cannons, sure. And maybe the Wanderers, they're not so hot this year. Definitely we'll lose if we have to play the Magpies, though." Astoria dove for the quaffle, barely preventing a score.

Gretchen scowled at the save and tried for a left-hand shot. "Also, the Falcons. They're ferocious. Their beaters scare me."

"Hey!" Gwenog whistled sharply and interrupted the conversation. Gretchen held the quaffle and watched her zip up on her broom. "Ladies! Listen to me. You, especially, Smith. You two need to step up the practice. Less talk. You both haven't had a pro-game yet, and it's going to be brutal." Astoria's face fell at the scolding, and she nodded seriously.

"Yes, ma'am, Miss Gwenog." Gwenog glared at the title, but didn't pause her tirade to comment.

"You are going to hate this, Astoria, but you depend entirely too much on your hands. The quaffle is no bludger. It will not break your nose. Incarcerous!" A thin, shiny black rope shot out from the end of Gwenog's wand and slipped around Astoria's wrists. It bound her hands to the handle of her broom. Astoria's eyes shot wide open as she struggled momentarily against the shock of being immobilized.

"Calm down, calm down, Astoria. You can still steer your broom. I want you to use your feet, body, or head to stop the quaffle. No more hands." Gwenog reached out and patted Astoria's shoulder gently. She rounded on Gretchen, who was giggling at her friend's handicap. "And YOU! If you still can't score on her with her hands tied, you get to start showing up for extra practices, got it?!" Gwenog brandished her wand under Gretchen's nose.

Gretchen gulped and nodded. "Yes, coach. Got it."

"Good. Get moving, ladies. You're burning daylight."

After practice, Astoria slumped against her locker. "Did you see that?"

She rubbed her wrists and scowled. Ginny couldn't contain her laughter. "Are you seriously complaining to me about Gwenog's training techniques?"

Astoria wrinkled her nose and rolled her shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. Sweet Salazar, I'm gonna be sore tomorrow."

Ginny shrugged into a blue robe that offset her hair nicely. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Astoria bit her lip. "Father expects me back for dinner today. Daphne and Marcus are in town."

"Ah. Okay, well, have fun! I can't believe Flint is your brother-in-law!" Ginny rolled her eyes.

Astoria smiled, "I hate it when they visit. He spends the whole time trying to schmooze my parents or talk to me about his quidditch glory days from Hogwarts. It really burns him that I'm a professional player now." Astoria finished applying her make up and added, as an after thought, "Well, I guess I'm a professional. It isn't like I've played any games."

"That just means you have a perfect win-loss record, Tori." Ginny patted her friend on the shoulder. "Hey, if you want to come over, or whatever, just send me an owl. I hate being cooped up in that house without Harry."

"Sure, Gin. I'll let you know." Ginny grinned, and apparated home.

Astoria Greengrass had a terrible day at practice, and she knew that the day wasn't going to get any better. She delayed going home as long as possible, because she couldn't stomach the thought of sitting through another family dinner where her mother was overly critical of her hair, or her clothes, or how she was cutting her food. Her father would spend the entire meal reciting a litany of the virtues of each potential eligible bachelor that he knew. The entire time, she'd have Daphne smirking at her from across the table. The icing on the cake would be the insufferable Marcus Flint with his snide little comments about how she wasn't good enough to play on a professional quidditch team. Astoria shoved her mascara into her backpack and braced herself against the sink. She could feel the tension building behind her eyes.

Astoria rubbed the bridge of her nose. With a sigh, she picked up her wand and apparated to her family's property. She slipped through the large, wrought iron gates, and walked slowly up the garden path to the front door.

She slipped inside the house quietly, and ducked through the foyer. She touched the glass of the large grandfather clock—for luck, a habit she'd started as a young girl to appease the Chizpurfles that Daphne had told her lived there. "If you touch the glass they can eat a little bit of your magic. If you don't feed them, they will attack you in your bed in the middle of the night!" Daphne finished this authoritative revelation with, 'I learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures Class! You just wait 'til you get to Hogwarts!'

Even though Astoria had since learned that Chizpurfles did not live in the grandfather clock, and even if they did, they couldn't "steal" her magic, she still pressed her palm to the glass every time she walked past the clock.

Astoria had barely made it up the stairs when her mother descended on her. "Astoria, dear, you must change out of those awful clothes. I didn't raise my daughter to look like a muggle. Put on your nice robes, the new ones we just bought from Malkin's. And let your hair down. You know how pulling your hair back makes your forehead look huge. And accents that dreadful widow's peak." Her mother brushed her finger's against Astoria's forehead. "Come on, hurry up, Daphne and Marcus will arrive any minute."

Biting back a bitter reply—because it would only start a fight-Astoria allowed her mother to herd her into her bedroom. She stood in front of the vanity mirror and began pulling out her French braid. Her mother was rifling through the closet for 'suitable robes.'

"Oh! Astoria! I thought I heard mother in here, nagging!" Daphne strode through Astoria's bedroom door and sat down on the bed. Her purple robes made her blue eyes seem darker. "Marcus is downstairs playing wand-snooker with father. They're soooo boring." Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'll go check on dinner, dears. Make sure Queenie knows to use the good silver. Put these on. Hurry up!" Their mother placed some robes for Astoria on the bed and headed out of the room.

"So, how's Quidditch going?" Daphne's tone carried a hint of derision.

"Mmm. Practice was rough. Gearing up for the big game." Astoria shrugged.

"I don't see why you want to play, anyhow." Daphne picked up her sister's brush and ran it through her own dark hair.

"Well, Daphne, you've never understood me." Astoria glared at her sister in the mirror.

"A truer statement has never been made. C'mon. I need to rescue Marcus from father. Especially if he's got the brandy out."

Astoria sighed and slipped into the robes her mother had left on the bed. She followed her older sister down the stairs to their father's den. Sure enough, he and Marcus were getting drunk and placing outlandish wagers on the outcome of their wand-snooker match.

"Father, let's go eat." Daphne touched her father's elbow.

"Oh, fine. The game was just starting to get good." Her father grinned sloppily over the snifter of brandy.

"I know, father. I'd appreciate it if you two wouldn't wager my house, though." Grinning, Daphne led her father and husband from the room. Astoria closed the bottle of brandy and wiped the bar table down. Before she finished, Queenie the house-elf appeared.

"Missus Astoria shouldn't be cleaning, she shouldn't! She is going to be late for dinner!" Queenie snatched the rag from Astoria. She cut her eyes at her and pointed to the door. "She needs to be hurrying!"

"Oh, fine, Queenie, fine." Astoria smiled at the house elf and hurried into the formal dining hall where her family was sitting.

Queenie had worked her usual magic with dinner. The large roast was simmering in its juices, and the boiled potatoes were buttery and seasoned with just the right amount of spices. Astoria even enjoyed the carrots, because Queenie had coated them with brown sugar and honey. Astoria wasn't paying much attention to the conversation-she was enjoying her meal. Daphne was talking about Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott's impending marriage, and Millicent Bulustrode's graduation from her apprenticeship to some potion's master in eastern Bulgaria. It wasn't until she heard her brother-in-law observe that he could get his old quidditch team together to meet Astoria that she jerked her gaze away from dinner.

"What?" She glanced from Marcus to her mother, then to her father, then back to Marcus. "I already know your old team, Marcus."

Daphne spoke before her husband had a chance to mollify Astoria, "But they've changed, some of them. And you're not that nerdy, socially awkward Hogwarts student with stringy brown hair and a stuffed bookbag anymore, Astoria." Daphne said archly.

"But you're still a bitch." Astoria muttered darkly.

"Astoria! That type of language is NOT allowed at the table!" Her mother set down her wine glass with slightly more force than necessary.

"Especially because I was just trying to encourage you, Astoria! Your self-confidence is terrible." Daphne dabbed at her lips with the napkin very primly.

Astoria bit back the retort she was in the middle of making, and instead turned to her father. "May I be excused, father? I'm starting to develop a bit of indigestion."

"You may be excused, but do think on it, would it be so terrible to have a start-of-season Quidditch party?" Her father raised his eyebrows.

"No, papa. It wouldn't be so terrible, if I could decide on the guest list." Astoria smiled sadly, and took her leave from the table.

She didn't realize Marcus had followed her down the hall. "Astoria." He called her name softly. When she turned around she was startled to see how uncomfortable her muscular brother-in-law looked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a sore subject for you." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't like displeasing your father. Daphne gets—well, never mind. I won't suggest any of my friends, if they're really so terrible. I'm lucky that your family let me marry her. I'm not smart. If it wasn't for my father getting me the job as a metal-charmer, well, I'm not even sure I'd be able to support your sister." Astoria took a step toward her brother-in-law. She realized with a start that she'd never made the effort to get to know him—mainly because of her strained relationship with Daphne. Marcus continued, "Plus, you know, I don't think your family likes me. I'm definitely not good enough for your sister. Most of my friends probably aren't good enough for you, either."

"You know, Marcus, even though you've been married to Daphne for the past year, I didn't know what your job is. Do you enjoy metal-charming?" Astoria smiled and touched his shoulder. She knew Daphne liked her men strong, athletic, and handsome. She hadn't married Marcus for his brains; he'd failed his exams his senior year and had to stay behind. She thought it was kind of sweet how in-love he was with her sister, after all this time. Stupid, but sweet.

"Yes. The best part is, I get to make the snitches for the International Quidditch Association." He grinned, proudly. "Maybe I'll charm one so only you can catch it! Except I'd probably lose my job." His face fell a little at the thought.

Astoria smiled up at Marcus, "At least you've still got Quidditch."

"I wish I could've made it professionally. That's why I tease you. I never felt happier than when I was playing at Hogwarts. I'm just jealous." Marcus smiled, a little sadly.

On a whim to cheer him up, Astoria decided, "Okay, Marcus. If you promise they're not going to be Neanderthals and spend the entire party getting drunk and re-living the glory quidditch days of Hogwarts, you can tell father that I've agreed to let you invite—" her mouth curled in distaste "—prospective suitors to a pre-season quidditch party" She paused, and added, "I think you're just fine for Daphne. I'm certainly not above any of your friends. I'm just sick of my parents trying to run my life."

His face lit up in surprise. "Really? You would do that for me? It would get your dad off my back about just being a dumb metal-charmer."

"I'm not doing it for my dad. I'll tell you a little secret. My familiy doesn't like me much, either." Astoria rolled her eyes. "Anyway, go tell father you convinced me. Maybe it's not too late for one of us to finally get the Greengrass stamp of approval." Astoria winked at her big, dumb brother-in-law and headed up the stairwell, hand dancing over the ornate carved banister, and disppaeared into her room.